


the miles are just an afterthought

by thesameoldstreets



Category: Original Work
Genre: Hockey, M/M, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 106,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesameoldstreets/pseuds/thesameoldstreets
Summary: Having long-distance friends is pretty hard and falling in love with one of them doesn't exactly make things easier.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about Shane Wilds.
> 
> A fair warning: it doesn't have an update schedule.
> 
> You can follow the story blog on thesameoldstreets.tumblr.com

The house is too quiet.

It has been since Connor moved out last summer and Shane has thought of pretty creative ways to fill the silence, but none of it really worked. His sister told him to start a ska band but Shane doesn’t know what ska even is.

He let Oscar Persson move into Connor’s old room at the beginning of the season and they got along pretty well but Oscar was no Connor and he got sent down before the regular season had properly started. They lived together for about a month. Then he let Ethan Buckwell move in for like four games in December, but he was only an emergency call-up, so he left again as well, and after that Shane gave up on finding another roommate.

Maybe next season.

He started inviting Robbie over and they play video games and order food and drink beer and it’s fun, he’s a good guy and Shane likes having him around, but it’s nothing like having Connor on the couch with him. Even though having Connor on the couch with him usually also meant talking Connor out of eating stuff he’d just found between the cushions and having popcorn thrown at him when he was dozing off during a movie.

He would do a lot to have popcorn thrown at him right about now.

It sounds like he has zero friends and nothing to live for and he also sounds like that when he texts Connor to complain, but that’s just him being overdramatic. In all honesty, he’s fine, he’s just being a baby, because his boyfriend broke up with him right around the same time that Connor got traded last year and it took him a while to recover.

Actually, he’s still recovering.

The worst thing is that Toby, approximately five days after breaking up with Shane, started dating this super slick accountant douchebag and it had Shane wondering if maybe, just maybe, Toby was seeing him even before he dumped Shane and if he was already planning on leaving him to ride off into the sunset with another guy while he was still telling Shane how much he loved him.

He tried not to think about it too much, but he clearly didn’t manage, because now he’s sitting on his couch, shoving fries into his mouth and _thinking about it_. Almost an entire year later. He almost wants to call Connor, but it’s late in Denver, so it’s even later in Hartford, and he doesn’t want to wake him up. They both have games tomorrow.

Which means Shane needs to either move his ass off the couch and go to bed or just go to sleep right here. Either way he needs to stop thinking about Toby and whether or not he cheated on him with the accountant. He needs to let it go. He did try to be happy for Toby, because now he has what he wants – a boyfriend who isn’t in a closet so deep that he’d need a map to find his way out and who takes him out on dates and introduces him to his friends.

Shane got that part. He did. He’s not angry about being dumped, really, because part of him was always afraid that it might happen, especially because it was something they kept fighting about when they were still together and there was nothing that Shane could change about it. It’s not like he could just go on Twitter and say, _oh hey good morning folks what a great day to be super gay. oh wait, you didn’t know? yes, I’m super gay_. That wouldn’t have gone over too well, not with his team or the Hawks organization or his family, none of which have the faintest idea that he’s gay. Except for Connor, who is with the Cardinals now. And Robbie, but Robbie is just one guy on the team.

There’s nobody else. His parents don’t know, his sisters don’t know, his grandparents don’t know. He’s on his own with this. Toby was… Meeting him was a complete coincidence. Getting together with him was a fluke. Shane thought that it’d just be him for a long, long time. And then it wasn’t. And then he had someone to kiss, someone to slip into bed with after a long roadie, someone to wake up next to in the morning.

It was nice.

And it was temporary.

The thing is, for a little while, Shane was almost convinced that maybe it didn’t have to be temporary, because they were happy with the way things were, until one day, Toby wasn’t happy with the way thing were anymore.

And then the accountant happened.

Shane picks up his phone and sighs at the notifications. A few from Instagram, a few from the NHL app about games that are happening tonight. He opens up Twitter and scrolls for a while and, in the span of ten minutes, considers ordering a pizza, buying a pillow shaped like an alpaca and finally getting a tattoo. He eventually switches to Instagram and likes a few dog pictures. Then, in the span of two minutes, considers adopting a dog, adopting a cat, and adopting a cat and a dog at the exact same time.

Because then the house wouldn’t be so quiet anymore.

But it’s the beginning of March, which is really not the time to adopt a cat or a dog, and it’s most definitely not the time to adopt both at the same time. They’re having a good season. They’ll probably make the playoffs and once they’re in the postseason he won’t need any distractions anyway. Puppies and kittens are for the summer.

So he tries to get it together and tells himself that he won’t even realize how quiet the house is when he’s sleeping. He grabs the remote to turn off the TV, listening to what the analysts are saying for a moment. They’re talking about the Cardinals game tomorrow.

“It’s true,” one of them is saying, “Rivera has been a great addition for the Cardinals.”

“Oh, absolutely. He had a good season with the Lions before they traded him, but he’s reaching new heights with the Cardinals.”

“Someone in LA might not be too happy about that.”

The other analyst smirks, like he was hoping his colleague would say that. “Another matchup happening tomorrow is the Colorado Hawks against the–”

Shane turns off the TV. He makes a point in not listening to what TV analysts have to say about his team, or his teammates, or himself. They have staff to tell them if there’s anything they need to work on. When he first started playing for the Hawks, he did listen to what all the experts had to say, until, one night, Connor gently took the remote away from him and turned off the TV. 

Shane misses turning his head and seeing Connor in the corner, yawning and stretching before he got up and shuffled to the stairs to go to sleep, and he misses saying good night to him and just having someone to talk to in general.

He’s in a real mood tonight.

And he doesn’t like himself much when he’s in a mood like this, because he already knows that he’ll lie down in bed and think about how nice it would be if there was someone lying next to him, if he had someone to kiss goodnight, someone who wouldn’t mind hugging him just for a few minutes before they fall asleep.

Shane opens up Twitter again and wastes another thirty minutes. He’s not ready for that existential crisis just yet.

Shane knows that he needs to get out of the house more, so he starts actually eating at the Grill instead of just getting the food to go. Sometimes he brings Robbie, sometimes he brings the entire second line, and it’s better than just eating at home in front of the TV.

But on some days it’s still just him at the house and no one’s laughing about a funny video in the kitchen and no one’s reading Tweets out loud while they’re watching a game and no one’s making disgusted noises while they’re digging through the fridge. Maybe Shane doesn’t miss that Connor always forgot about his leftovers until they started growing legs in their fridge, but it was a small price to pay. At least Connor always cleaned them up. Eventually.

Shane knows there’s no way he’s getting Connor back, because that’s not the way this business works, but he can dream. Still. Long distance is hard with friends as well. And Shane didn’t even know you could be jealous of friends who are having fun without you, but that’s definitely a thing. A thing that Shane really doesn’t like about himself.

He’s happy that Connor is so happy in Connecticut, a bit like the way he’s happy for Toby and his accountant. It stings a little that Connor seems so much happier there.

It’s hardly surprising, though. They obviously love him there and it’s not like they didn’t love him here, he was definitely a favorite and Shane knows that a lot of the fans miss him dearly, especially in all the promo material that PR does with them, but Connor gets more ice time with the Cardinals and he really seems to be clicking with his partner and it’s just so obvious that Hartford is a better place for him.

Shane wishes that place was here, but he wants Connor to be happy and his career is part of that. They’re still in touch, him and Connor, and they text pretty much every day, but what Shane misses the most is talking to him.

He’s still pretty miserable when Connor’s birthday rolls around and he’s having this big party with all his friends and Shane can’t be there. Shane’s in Ottawa for a road game and he’s all by himself in his hotel room, because he didn’t feel like going out and having Oreo try to be his wingman. He’d much rather be at Connor’s birthday party.

He starts dicking around on Twitter again to distract himself and Connor actually replies to his Tweets and it’s all fun and games until Brady Rosenberg gets involved.

Because when Brady Rosenberg gets involved, everything changes.

Just like that.

Shane has known Brady Rosenberg for ages. Everyone knows the Rosenbergs. Brady’s brother Jeff has been in the league for years, he’s one of the alternate captains for the Foxes and he’s been with them ever since he got drafted. And Zach is in Seattle, not ridiculously well-known, but well-liked.

Brady’s been getting shuffled around quite a bit. He’s in Ottawa now, which is… Well, Shane is glad that he isn’t in Ottawa. Okay, he is in Ottawa right now, but they’re flying back home tomorrow after the game. He’d rather not live here. There are, of course, worse places to be – LA has been a bit of a dumpster fire all season and the fans in Edmonton are pretty much ready to riot – but Shane still doesn’t envy him.

Even though they’ve known each other for ages, it’s not like they were really talking a lot. Brady Rosenberg’s just one of those guys who seems to know the entire league. But then Brady just sort of slides into his DMs on Twitter with pictures of his two dogs, two Golden Retrievers, one more golden than the other, and says, _there’s more where these came from_.

And Shane, of course, can never say no to a good dog picture. Especially when it’s _two_ dogs.

They were just joking about cake earlier, but an hour later they’re still talking, still on Twitter, until Brady sends him his phone number and then they text for another hour, until Brady says he needs to go to bed because he’ll be useless the next day otherwise – _that was the plan all along_ , says Shane – but he sends another picture of one of his dogs before he says goodbye.

The next day Shane texts him to ask what the dogs’ names are. Five minutes later, Brady is back to sending him pictures of Chewie and Penny, and when they see each other on the ice in the evening, Brady waves at him during warmups. It’s a pretty boring game – the Hawks walk out of it with a 1-0 win. No hard feelings afterwards.

Brady texts him to chirp him anyway and it just goes on like that, with a few dog pictures and some hockey talk and pictures from roadies and food strewn in between, and it’s nice to have someone else to talk to. It’s not like he’s talking to Brady Rosenberg the same way he’d talk to Connor, he wouldn’t tell Brady that he’s feeling really fucking lonely the way he tells Connor, but maybe it’s better like this anyway, because now all he has to do is send Brady the dog emoji and he’ll get a picture in return. Brady seems to have an endless supply, even when he’s on the road and nowhere even close to his dogs.

Shane wouldn’t say they’re becoming the best of friends, but he’s getting used to having this new person in his life and he likes talking to Brady about hockey, too, even though he isn’t exactly shy about his opinions. Shane is usually pretty careful when he talks about other players, because your team is only your team until someone gets traded or someone signs with them in free agency and then you’re suddenly playing with a guy you were talking shit about two months earlier. And then there’s Brady, who sees a nasty hit on TV and texts Shane, _wow i guess dominic bolton is winning the biggest douchebag award this season huh_.

He also offers to beat up other players for Shane constantly, even though Brady is probably one of scrawniest guys in the league.

When Shane gets into a bit of a scrap with the Wildcats’ Johnny Moore, Brady texts him after, asks, _what did he say to you?_

What he said wasn’t even that bad, it was just, “Haven’t scored in a while, eh, pretty boy?” and Shane might have brushed it off and skated away, but Johnny Moore is the same guy who called him a cocksucker and got away with it last season, so Shane sort of flipped his shit. He doesn’t tell Brady any of that, though, he just says, _i think he was upset because he’s not as handsome as me_.

 _it’s true, he isn’t_ , is Brady’s reply and Shane definitely isn’t feeling things, because feeling things isn’t allowed, but it does take him a few minutes to come up with an adequate reply.

Five minutes later, Brady has offered that he’ll murder Johnny Moore the next time he sees him and everything’s back to normal again.

Until Ottawa gets eliminated from the playoff race.

It’s the beginning of April and they still have three games to play. The Hawks are about to clinch their playoff spot, but for Ottawa the season is pretty much over, despite the games they still have left to play.

Shane sends Brady a sad face but doesn’t get a reply. Not that he was expecting one. At least not immediately. And Shane wouldn’t poke and prod him for a reply, but when it’s been a day – which is maybe a normal amount of time to not hear from a person, but they’ve been talking pretty much every day, so it seems much longer to him – Shane mutes the game he’s watching and gives Brady a call.

He wasn’t actually expecting Brady to pick up, but he does, after like two rings, and says, “Hey, man, what’s up?”

Shane knows that he’s spoken to Brady before, not just on the internet, but maybe at some league event or something, but he didn’t remember that his voice sounded like this, low and rough, and right now also a little bit worried. “Hey,” Shane says and then completely forgets why he called in the first place. He probably shouldn’t have. Brady might think that’s weird. “What’s up?” he adds. You can call a bro just to ask what’s up, right?

“Uh, nothing, really,” Brady says.

“Oh, okay,” Shane says and fights the urge to just hang up immediately. He’s being really stupid about this for some reason. The thing is, Brady is a nice guy and Shane doesn’t want him to hate him. For being… annoying, or whatever. “How are Chewie and Penny?”

Brady laughs. “You know, if you were trying to get a live feed for my dogs you should have done a video call.”

“Oh, I… no.”

“Wait, give me a sec.”

And so a second later they’re on FaceTime and all Shane can see, really, is Penny’s nose as she sniffs Brady’s phone. Behind her Chewie, a little darker, is wedged between Brady’s leg and the back of the couch.

“She has no idea what’s going on, but she’s so excited,” Brady says. “Penny, hey, he can’t see you like that.” Penny doesn’t seem to care at all, though, so eventually Brady mumbles, “Give me a second,” and there’s some shuffling and then Brady’s in the pictureand Penny is next to him, Brady’s arm around her. “Can you actually see her now?”

“Yeah, hey, hi,” Shane says and feels ridiculous, because he’s talking to a dog. He had a turtle when he was a kid and he did talk to the turtle, but it’s not like he’d ever tell anyone about that.

Brady grins and scratches Penny’s head. “She’s my best girl.”

“Aw, I really want a dog.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I’m not ready to be a dad. Maybe in the summer when I have more time, or next summer, I don’t know, you never know how long playoffs are gonna be and…” Shane trails off, because it’s not like he called to fucking rub it in that Ottawa didn’t make the playoffs.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Brady says. “I mean, it’s not, but… You know. Nothing we can do about it now.”

“Yeah,” Shane says. “Sorry.” Last season the Hawks only barely scraped into the playoffs, the season before they were in the second seed and then got swept. But it’s better than not making it at all.

“I’ll send you supportive dog pictures,” Brady says with a broad grin. One of his front teeth is chipped, just a little bit, and Shane is definitely one of those people who’d never walk this world with a missing tooth, but with Brady it’s… it just fits.

“Always love supportive dog pictures.”

“My dogs are the most supportive,” Brady says and dips his head down, dark curls tumbling into his eyes. “Isn’t that right, Penny? Are you more supportive than Chewie?”

Penny just looks delighted that she’s being spoken to.

“Don’t tell Chewie, but he’s so fucking lazy, he’s just dozing next to us and couldn’t give less of a shit. He’ll support you in his own way, I promise.”

“I get that, I’m fucking lazy, too.”

“Says the guy who posts five workout videos a day during the summer.”

“Hey, I never post more than two,” Shane grumbles. “Sometimes three. But that’s it.”

It doesn’t occur to him until he’s in bed later that Brady must be following his Instagram, so he goes looking for Brady’s. He can’t just sift through his followers because he has too many, but all his searches are futile. He tries to look for Brady’s full name, tries the same username he has on Twitter, even checks his brother’s account to see if he got tagged in any of the pictures, but there’s nothing. Maybe Brady doesn’t even have an account and just wanted to chirp him.

It’s past midnight when Shane finally forces himself to put down his phone. He doesn’t want to follow Brady back _that_ badly. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.


	2. Chapter 2

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

“It’s only the second round,” Shane says. “And I did celebrate. A lot. Boy, did I celebrate.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Brady replies. “You _are_ calling me at three in the morning.”

“Shit, I didn’t realize…” Shane squints at his alarm clock. What, he didn’t realize that it wasn’t the middle of the night for Brady? It’s definitely three in the morning. It’s hella dark outside. “Hey, shouldn’t it be later for you?”

Brady laughs. “Dude, I’m in Alberta.”

“You’re in Alberta.”

“Yes.”

Right, Shane should have known that. He drank too much beer and now his brain can’t recall the most basic information. That happens sometimes. “I forgot.”

Brady laughs again, but this time it’s muffled, like he’s sticking his head into his pillow. “I’m going to hang up on you now, because I promised I’d help feed the horses in the morning.”

“You still owe me a picture of you on a horse,” Shane mumbles, but lets Brady hang up on him, because it is three in the morning and Shane didn’t even mean to call him in the first place, or at least he’s pretty sure he didn’t.

They’ve been talking on the phone a lot, mostly because Connor has been busy with his own playoff games, so he didn’t really have much time to give Shane a daily pep talk for his playoff games. Brady had time, particularly during the first round when he was still packing up his apartment in Ottawa. They’d just talk and Brady would tell him about all the crap he’d found behind the couch.

For a few days, after the Hawks had moved on to the next round, Brady was spending his days driving and Shane was trying to get over a wrist injury in the few days between rounds. It didn’t quite work out for him, but nothing’s broken, so it was just a lot of tape and ice, and he kept playing.

Brady started sending him pictures of his parents’ ranch in Alberta and their horses, so many horses. Shane’s scared shitless of horses, but he obviously didn’t tell Brady that, because he wasn’t ready for the chirps that would have followed. And they’re okay in the pictures. There’s pictures of other dogs, too, and little kittens and it looks like Brady’s having a great time, even though he didn’t get to play playoff hockey, so Shane doesn’t feel guilty when he talks about the team and the traveling and the injuries – _don’t tell your brothers about my wrist though who knows if I’ll end up playing against them_. 

_I only talk to them when I have to_ , Brady replied. _I’m kidding but I can keep a secret don’t worry_.

Nobody tries to chop Shane’s hand off while he’s on the ice, so Brady likely kept his promise. Not that he’s playing against any of the Rosenbergs, but Brady is friends with literally everyone. Maybe that’s part of getting traded a lot, too. You have to be able to fit yourself into a new locker room when you get shuffled from one team to another and Brady did some AHL time, too.

Shane doesn’t know what it’s like to play on any other teams. He got drafted by the Hawks, played two years in college then came back to Denver and that’s where he’s been ever since. He always knew that he wanted to stay here if he could and the Hawks weren’t keen on letting him go anywhere when his entry level contract was up. He doesn’t know how he’d do if he got traded.

He felt terrible for Connor when he got sent to Connecticut, but Connor was fine, of course he was fine. He’s Connor. Everyone loves him. And it’s not that Shane isn’t popular in the locker room, but he doesn’t like going places by himself. He always had Connor to bring along, so he never had to show up anywhere all by himself. And Connor never had that problem, he didn’t mind packing his bags and flying to Hartford, but Shane can’t even imagine walking into a locker room he doesn’t know on his own. The thought alone gives him anxiety and he’s in absolutely no danger of getting traded right now.

He just assisted on the goal that took them to Conference Finals.

He was pretty comfortable on the second line most season, but he’s been getting paired with Orlie on their first power play unit as well. He doesn’t have to worry about management wanting to get rid of him. Not after the second round of playoffs.

Shane groans and pulls at the blankets. He gets to sleep in tomorrow and then it’s back to work the day after. They won the series in six and don’t know who they’ll be seeing in the Conference Finals yet, but they will in a few days. He’s absolutely, totally ready to go back to sleep and definitely isn’t worrying about the Hawks organization secretly hating him as a player when his phone lights up with a text.

It’s a picture from Brady. It’s Penny, fast asleep on a porch swing with her head on a flowery pillow – _took this one earlier and forgot to send it to you sorry_.

 _I would die for her_ , Shane replies.

Brady sends back a smiley face. After that, Shane puts down his phone, because he needs to let Brady sleep, so he can feed those scary, scary horses in the morning. He does want to see Brady _on_ a horse, though, preferably with a cowboy hat on his head. The thought is hilarious to him somehow, particularly now that it’s three in the morning and he’s had a few beers, so he does send Brady another text to remind him, hoping he won’t wake him up.

He doesn’t get a reply, at least not immediately.

When he wakes up in the morning, there’s a picture of Brady with a reddish-brown horse looking over his shoulder – _Oswald says you can have a picture of me on a horse when you’ve won the Cup_.

 _tell oswald he’s mean_ , Shane replies. Then he texts Connor good luck for his game later.

They’re still at a point where they can do that. If they both make it to the final round… that’s a different story. Shane doesn’t know how to play against Connor, even when it’s just a regular season game, it seems wrong and he doesn’t like it. And if it’s them playing for the Cup? One of them would walk out of it miserable and nobody in this world wants to see Connor Walden miserable.

As it turns out, Shane didn’t have to worry about playing against Connor.

The Cardinals don’t make it past the second round and Shane gives Connor a call to make sure he’s okay. Connor turns out to be in pretty good spirits and it seems that he somehow got a date out of losing that game last night.

It’s unreal what a ladies magnet Connor can be when he tries. Shane gets it, though. Connor is a huge guy, but he manages to be about as non-threatening as a puppy. It’s a good combination. And Shane isn’t jealous or anything, seriously, he’s happy that Connor’s not miserable about getting eliminated. It’s more the abstract idea that he’s jealous of. It’s about the date, not the people who are involved in it. Shane wants to go out on a date. He wants to nudge someone’s foot under the table. He wants to hold hands with a cute guy. He wants to get railed, for fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t tell Connor any of that, because this phone call isn’t about him, so they talk for a bit and then Connor switches to FaceTime, because his roommate’s dog is back and after that Shane gets a half-hour live feed of the dog sleeping on the couch, which makes him feel a lot better.

“Did I tell you that I’ve talked Rosie into sending me daily dog pictures?” Shane says.

“Which Rosie? Brady?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s right, doesn’t he have two?”

“He does,” Shane says. “I love them.”

“The dogs?”

“Yeah.”

Connor grins. “What about Rosie?”

“Shut up,” Shane says and rolls his eyes into oblivion.

“Not your type?”

“Straight guys are rarely my type,” Shane says gruffly. At least he tries not to go anywhere beyond _this dude is hot_ with a straight guy. Of course it doesn’t always work, but there’s no point in even looking twice at a straight guy and hockey players are a big no anyway, with all the getting traded or maybe even living in two different countries and never seeing each other. Even if you start out on the same team, you never know. And if you stay on the same team and then you break up? Yeah, fucking terrible idea. “Anyway, you know that I’d never–”

“You’d never date a hockey player, sure, I know, I know.”

“So why are you even asking?”

“Because your face did a thing when you said _Rosie_.”

“It didn’t.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it did.”

“No, Connor, babe, it did not.”

“No,” Connor says, his grin growing broader, “I’m pretty sure it did.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Shane says, “it did not do a thing, because if it had done a thing, I would have to go and drown myself in the bathtub.”

“Fine, it didn’t do a thing,” Connor says.

“The thought will still haunt me for weeks, so thank you very much.”

Connor sticks out his tongue. “Listen, you’re allowed to find Rosie hot, not that I’m an expert or anything, but he’s probably the best-looking Rosie, isn’t he?”

Shane only sighs in reply. Connor is right, though. Brady definitely is the best-looking Rosie.

“I don’t see the problem with finding a guy hot,” Connor goes on. “It’s not like you’re being inappropriate about it. Like, you’re not ogling dudes in the locker room or whatever. Rosie isn’t even on the Hawks.”

“This somehow sounds like you’re trying to talk me into finding Rosie attractive?”

“I’m not trying to do anything, I’m just saying–”

“Please stop saying things,” Shane says. Because he’s trying so hard. So hard. He has one rule. And he’ll fucking stick to it. No hockey players. Except for Mike Wilson, but when that happened they were sixteen and he was still in high school back in Minnesota. The last time Shane checked, Mike Wilson was living in San Francisco with his boyfriend and a corgi. And Shane’s really fucking lucky that Mike Wilson turned out to be a decent guy who’d never tell a soul that Shane gave him a blowjob in a closet at Brittany Ellis’s house that one time.

Of course that’s the problem with the no-hockey-players rule. It’s pretty hard to find a guy who isn’t a hockey player and who he can trust to keep his mouth shut after. Toby was a fluke, really.

Connor, as requested, has stopped saying things and is now scratching his roommate’s dog behind the ears.

Shane almost wants to apologize to Connor for telling him to stop talking, but Connor probably knew why. It just makes things worse when he’s talking about how messed up his situation is and, sure, Connor doesn’t see the harm in finding other people hot, but he hasn’t spent his entire life keeping his eyes on his toes in the locker room, so no one would ever accuse him of… looking.

They talk about nothing in particular afterwards, their conversation eventually fizzling out. Connor wishes him good luck for the next round. Shane tells him that he’s sorry he didn’t make it.

“Game 7 tomorrow, huh?” Brady says. “Gotta say–”

“Hey, if you’re about to say something like, ‘Shane, they’re about to wipe the floor with you,’ just don’t?”

“Okay, I won’t say it. Pinky promise.”

“I so appreciate it,” Shane says gruffly. Their series is tied, but only because the Hawks got lucky twice. Their first win was well-earned, but it was sheer dumb luck that got them the other two wins. They won Game 4 in overtime and the game winner bounced off the bars three times before it eventually got pushed in by the Vipers’ goalie. And then they won Game 6 with twenty seconds left on the clock. Shane scored that one. He was trying to pass it to Oreo.

Game 7 will be a nightmare from start to finish and Shane is starting to wonder if they might have run out of luck now and they’ll get decimated on home ice tomorrow. 

Brady cackles. “Listen, I gotta go in a bit, my sister keeps roping me into shit. Apparently they’re gonna start charging me rent if I don’t help them paint the fence.”

“Sounds like they’re really putting you to work.”

“Fuck, they sure are,” Brady says. “No, I mean, I really don’t mind helping out. My sister’s running this whole thing with her husband and I have no idea how she does it, honestly. Like, my parents are here and they have people helping out, but there’s so much to do and… I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I’m really good at painting fences.”

“Oh, are you? Special talent of yours?”

“Sure is,” Brady says. “I used to build furniture in the barn, actually. I’ll send you a picture of the first shelf I made, it’s hilarious. They still use it for equipment.”

“You’re, like… a real farm boy, aren’t you?”

“It’s a ranch, not a farm,” Brady says, indignant. “We have horses.”

“So many horses.” Scary, scary horses. “I swear you find a new horse to take a picture of every single day. Or maybe they all just look the same.”

Brady laughs at the other end of the line. “It’s easier to tell them apart when you’re around them all the time.”

In all honesty, Shane doesn’t know how the fuck Brady manages to be around all those horses all the time. He did grow up with them around, but they’re still huge and could probably kill them all if they really put their minds to it. “Okay, I believe you, you’re the horse whisperer here,” Shane says. “And you still owe me a picture.”

“I told you, Oswald won’t pose for a pic unless you win the Cup,” Brady says. “Sorry.”

“Fine,” Shane says, like he can just go ahead and decide that he’ll win the Cup.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Brady says, serious now.

“Thanks, man.”

“And… give me a call whenever, yeah?”

“Okay,” Shane says. He knows what Brandy means – Shane can give him a call if they win tomorrow, and he can give him a call if they lose, and he can hide under his duvet for a week and not speak to him at all – and he sincerely appreciates it.

Shane hangs up.

A little over twenty-four hours later, he calls Brady again to leave him a very long, very loud voicemail right after they won the Western Conference Finals.

He gets a text in return two hours later – _wow you’re so close to getting that picture_.


	3. Chapter 3

Shane knows it’s bad when he doesn’t feel like finishing his garlic fries from the Grill.

He’s just too fucking nervous to eat. He’s too fucking nervous to watch a movie. He’s too fucking nervous to take a nap. Shane is just sitting on his couch, practically vibrating out of his body with nerves, because they’re playing their fifth final round game tomorrow and nothing’s decided yet but Shane still can’t bring himself to eat his garlic fries.

Phone in hand, he considers calling Connor, but he’s been calling Connor every fucking day. In fact, he called him earlier after practice, so he can’t call him again. Connor is probably sick of him by now and he did spend nearly two hours analyzing the Bobcats’ possible injuries with Shane, so calling him is definitely out.

Brady is baby-sitting his niece today, so he probably doesn’t have time to talk either. Shane sent him a text earlier, but he didn’t get a reply and he isn’t desperate enough to send another text. He knows that he’s clingy, even as a friend, always scared that people secretly hate him, so he tries not to be too annoying with the texts.

He forces himself to eat a few more garlic fries, even though they’re starting to get cold and disgusting, and when he’s just about ready to give up on life, Brady sends him a selfie, his hair, definitely longer than usual, covered in sparkly hair clips, some strands of it braided and there’s a butterfly clip involved as well. _if you ever show this to anyone I’ll spend my savings on an assassin_ , Brady says.

 _fashion icon_ , Shane says. His own nieces have definitely done that to him, but there’s no evidence.

_did you get your garlic fries?_

_sure did_ , Shane replies. _kinda feel like I’m dying though_.

He doesn’t get a reply to that one. Maybe he was being a little too overdramatic there.

There’s no hockey on TV to distract him, so he puts on a movie, forces himself to eat more food, even though it sort of makes him feel like he’s going to throw up, and hugs a pillow, because it’s the next best thing to a hug from a real person.

He’s started to doze off when his phone starts ringing.

“Yeah, sup?” Shane says. He’s probably not awake.

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you up?”

It’s Hannah.

“Nope, no, I’m awake. Hey,” Shane says. “How are you?”

“I’m… okay. All good.”

Shane sits up and squints at the time on the DVD players. It’s just past eight. Not that late, but later than Hannah would usually call him. Actually, Hannah barely ever calls. “Yeah?”

The prolonged silence on the other end of the line says, _No, something’s definitely wrong_. “I wasn’t gonna call you… Like, you have playoffs and all that and I know this is super important and you probably need to–”

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Shane says. There has to be something going on. Jen is the sister who calls and Hannah is the sister who’s too busy with her social life to give her big brother a call. They have much bigger age gap between the two of them, too. Jen is only two years older than him and they were always pretty close, except when they were screaming at each other. When Hannah was growing up Shane was mostly into hockey and not really into being a babysitter.

“I tried to call Jen, but she didn’t pick up,” Hannah says.

“Book club.”

“Oh. I forgot about that. Crap.”

“What’s up, Squid?”

Hannah doesn’t protest when he calls her Squid, so she must be having a pretty bad day. Usually, she’d tell him that seventeen is too old to be called Squid even if it’s her big brother who does it. “It’s just… Mom and Dad.”

“Are they okay?”

“Yeah. Physically.”

“But?” Shane says.

“They fight.”

“A lot?”

“All the time,” Hannah says. “They’re arguing right now. It’s like every little thing sets them off. Yesterday Dad couldn’t find the car keys and it turned into a thirty-minute argument about something completely different.”

“I’m sorry, Hannah.”

“It’s like they’ve forgotten that I’m here.”

“You know, they were always… I don’t know. They just bicker a lot.”

“This isn’t bickering. It’s… so much worse than that.”

“Maybe they just… I don’t know. They might need a break from each other. Or just a break in general. You guys are gonna come to Tampa in a couple of days and maybe they’ll calm down a little after that.”

Hannah sighs. “Maybe.”

Silence falls. Shane doesn’t exactly excel at comforting other people and he’s not there, he doesn’t know what’s going on exactly. It must have been going on for some time, though, for Hannah to be worried enough to call him about it, but Jen really would have been a better bet.

Shane is a terrible big brother.

“I’m sorry I called, you probably have other stuff to do,” Hannah says. “It’s just… annoying.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Shane says. It’s probably more than just annoying. Shane can’t say that he wasn’t worried when he overheard them arguing at night when he was little, but back then it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence. “You’re fine, don’t worry. You, uh… you should talk to Jen about it, too. Because…”

“She lives ten minutes away and you’re in Colorado? Yeah, I know.”

“Not that you can’t call me or anything.”

“No, I get it. Also, you have that sort of important hockey thing going on. So I’m gonna hang up now. And I’ll see you in Tampa.”

“No, hey, tell me about school and stuff.”

“Eh, it’s just… school.”

“How are your friends?”

“Good.”

“Your–”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Hannah says.

Shane almost wants to ask her if she has a girlfriend then, but his family is weird about those things. A little conservative, maybe. Not religious, but they have a pretty set idea of what a family is supposed to look like. Mom, dad, kids, a minivan and a dog. They eventually sold the minivan when Shane and Jen had left and the dog died two years ago, but they’re still fond of the idea. It’s Jen who has the minivan and the dog now. And the husband and the two kids.

“Okay,” Shane says, because it’s fine if she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Their parents must be delighted, because when Jen first starting dating Paul when she was fifteen, they had a major argument about it pretty much daily. Shane also got the _no sex before marriage_ talk, but only once. Jen probably got it every weekend.

He’s not sure if their parents actually expected them not to have sex before they got married or if it just helped them sleep at night, knowing that they at least tried. Shane listened when his dad tried to talk to him about the birds and the bees, was embarrassed about it and couldn’t look him in the eye for at least a week. Then he went and started hooking up with Mallory Parker, just because. It didn’t take him too long to figure out why he wasn’t really enjoying it, but it didn’t really stop him.

Until the thing in the closet happened.

He and Mallory Parker eventually broke up and she started dating one of Shane’s teammates. No hard feelings there. He sees them sometimes in the summer, when he goes back to Minnesota for a couple of weeks. He usually doesn’t stay there to train; his dad’s brother has a rink in Winnipeg, so that’s where he spends most of his time in the offseason.

He feels bad for basically only passing through on his way up north, waving at his family as he passes, but he can’t spend more than two weeks at a time at his parents’ house without going totally insane.

Hannah tells him a little about school, clearly not looking forward to her summer job at the camp their parents used to send them to when they were all little. Shane hated that camp and eventually started begging his parents to send him to a summer hockey camp instead. He knows that he owes them for spending all that money on his development, which only contributes to him feeling like a terrible son when he only ever comes by for a week or two. Jen’s kids in particular get ridiculously excited when he comes by. He’s the uncle who brings the cool gifts and gives them piggyback rides and buys them tons of ice cream. That’s the only way he knows how to bond with small children.

Bonding with Hannah works pretty much the same way – ice cream, movies, a trip to the mall.

“Oh, crap, I gotta go, Em is calling me,” Hannah says halfway through a lengthy complaint about the food they serve at camp. “Bye, love you, score at least five goals tomorrow!”

“I’ll try,” Shane says.

He scores one goal. It’s good enough. It gets them a win.

Shane should not be awake after midnight the day before they play for the Cup.

He should be fast asleep. He’s exhausted. The Cup will be in the building tomorrow. It’s only Game 6, but they don’t want a Game 7, they want to take that Cup home to Denver with them. It’s all Shane can think about, his heart hammering in his chest, keeping him awake.

For a while, he tries the squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to think about nothing at all approach, but when he’s still awake half an hour later, he grabs his phone and starts scrolling through Twitter. He’s careful not to like anything, because someone, somewhere, would probably find a way to use that against him if his performance tomorrow is anything less than perfect.

It takes him another ten minutes to finally give in. _I’ve never been this stressed in my entire life_ , he texts Brady.

Brady, bless him, replies immediately. Or at least the little speech bubble pops up. Then it disappears. Then it pops up again, only to disappear once more.

Shane sighs.

Then his phone starts buzzing.

He drops it on his face, because he’s trying to pick up quickly and then nearly hangs up on Brady when he catches the phone.

“Hey,” Shane says and it comes out breathless.

“I was gonna write you this super encouraging message, but then I figured I might as well call, because you clearly aren’t asleep yet,” Brady says.

Shane takes a deep breath. “Thank you.” He really needed to talk to another human being right now and he didn’t even realize.

“I know it’s a lot,” Brady says, “knowing that you can win it tomorrow.”

“It fucks me up.”

Brady laughs. “Try not to think about it. I know that’s easy for me to say, because I’m just gonna sit on my ass all day tomorrow and eat popcorn, but, you know…”

“Not feeding any horses?”

“I mean, probably, but not in the morning.”

“Lucky you,” Shane says. “I really, really need to go to sleep right now.”

“Brain won’t shut up?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Yeah, like, the night before we won the Cup, I was totally losing it. I don’t know what to tell you, except just close your eyes and hope that you’ll just fall asleep eventually.”

“That’s–” It’s not helpful, but Shane gets stuck on something else there. “You won the Cup.” He feels like he should have known that.

“Yeah. It was that one season I was in Chicago. Like, I was with their farm team the season before and that season I was in the NHL a little more. I barely played enough games to get my name on the Cup, though. And then I got traded to San Diego and it was the season we made it to the Cup final and lost.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen some shit, dude.”

Shane can’t help but laugh. He can’t even imagine, though. If he’s not totally wrong, Brady got drafted in 2010 by Winnipeg. Then they must have traded him to Chicago, then Chicago sent him to San Diego, and maybe Shane is missing a step here, but he supposes that San Diego traded him to Ottawa. And just thinking of that makes Shane’s head spin.

“It’s a wild ride,” Brady says. “But winning it, it’s…”

“Best thing ever?”

“Totally the best thing ever.”

Shane blows out a deep breath. It’s been a while since he had dinner, but he feels like it might make a reappearance.

“Hey, you made it past Vegas,” Brady goes on. “Everyone thought there was no way you were gonna do that.”

Shane sighs.

“What I’m trying to say,” Brady goes on, “is that you can totally do it.”

“No, I got it, I’m just… I don’t know. Nothing you say will make me feel better.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“What if I do something that loses us the game tomorrow?” Shane says. “What if the Comets win the Cup because I fuck up?”

“That’s not how it works. You win together and you lose together. It’s never just one person’s fault.”

“Wow, can you like… come here and be on my team?”

“I mean, I will be a free agent in July,” Brady says with a laugh.

“Come to Colorado. Or are you staying in Ottawa? Did you talk to them?”

“I don’t think that signing me is their highest priority right now. And, you know, there is a chance that they’d rather trade me and get something in return than watch me walk in July if they don’t make me a good enough offer. Because they’re gonna be having cap space issues and…” Brady trails off. “Sorry, you’re literally playing for the Cup tomorrow and I’m talking about contract talks.”

“No, please keep talking about contracts.”

“You should sleep, though,” Brady says. “I feel like it’ll be my fault if you don’t win the game tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll send you motivational pictures.”

Shane grins up at the ceiling. “Of you on a horse?”

“Maybe after the game. Let’s see how it goes.”

“We’re gonna have to win then,” Shane says. It’s not even that important, seeing Brady on a horse, it’s just funny, the way they’ve been chirping each other about it.

“Yeah,” Brady says. “I’m gonna watch the game with everyone. Zach got home two days ago and we’re gonna have a big watch party and we’ll pretend that we don’t care who wins, but I’m totally rooting for you.”

Shane turns over and pulls the blankets up to his chin. “Thank you.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Are you gonna sleep now?”

“Yeah,” Shane says.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

When Shane gets back to the hotel after their morning skate, he has half a dozen pictures from Brady waiting for him. _good luck dogs_ , Brady said.

Shane thanks him, goes and hangs out in Robbie’s room with a bunch of the guys because he can’t stand being alone right now and only goes back to his room when it’s time for his pregame nap. He almost wishes he had a roommate now, even though he snores when he lies on his back and sometimes he talks in his sleep, too, so he’s the worst roommate in the world.

He falls asleep and it seems like his alarm rings about four seconds later and he’s more tired than he was before.

Shane is pretty proud of himself when he doesn’t throw up in the locker room before the game and manages to get on the ice without tripping over his own skates. The game is fast-paced and Shane gets plastered against the boards by a Comet whenever he’s out on the ice. He’s an easy target because he’s one of the smallest guys out there and it’s also the easiest way of slowing him down.

He’s starting to get mad at himself for being absolutely useless. They’ve scored three goals and he didn’t factor into a single one of them, and the Comets have also scored three goals, so halfway during the third period they’re pretty much exactly where they started, except most of them have a few more bruises and there’s definitely something going on with Oreo’s right leg. Shane’s wrist could use some ice as well.

As the minutes tick away, Shane is starting to get that feeling in the pit of his stomach – impending doom. Overtime. He’s going to fucking drop dead if he has to play more than the six minutes they still have on the clock. He wants to end it so badly.

So he goes and does it.

At least in a way.

It’s a weird as shit pass that involves way too much spinning and guessing at where the fuck it’s going to go once he’s done spinning, but it somehow ends up on Robbie’s tape back at the blue line and Robbie throws it on net so hard that the Comets’ goalie never stands a chance. It goes in right above his blocker and Oreo immediately crashes into Shane, lifting him off his feet, screaming into his ears like they’ve already won. Robbie has to come to them for a hug.

The following minutes are the longest of Shane’s life. It feels like there’s an entire hockey game left to play. The whistle keeps going and going, the Comets go on the power play and Shane can’t even fucking look at the ice. The Comets pull their goalie, too, so it’s 6-on-4 and Shane can’t breathe. Robbie, next to him on the bench, pats his thigh, but it doesn’t help, not even a little bit.

They somehow kill the penalty and then Shane’s back out there and the Comets still have their goalie pulled. Oreo scores the empty netter with forty-two seconds left on the clock and that’s it, isn’t it?

Everyone’s on their feet on the bench and the Hawks fans that traveled to North Carolina with them are on their feet. The Comets’ fans have gone quiet. They still cheer for their team when the clock runs down, but they’re soon replaced by Hawks fans at the glass.

Shane is definitely crying when he skates out to hug Luke, whose catching glove and blocker sail past Shane’s head as he approaches. He can’t tell who he’s hugging, who’s screaming into his ear. He’s screaming, too, and Robbie comes over to kiss his cheek and then keeps holding on to him and drags him around the ice with him, to the handshake line, to the interview he gets pulled over for, and when it’s Robbie’s turn to lift the Cup, he hands it to Shane, who nearly drops it, because his wrist hurts like hell and it’s so much heavier than he expected.

He makes it, though, safely delivers it to his waiting teammates and then gets roped into an interview before the gets released to his family. His dad is crying and his mom’s extremely red in the face and Hannah jumps into his arms with a laugh and Jen joins in, too, squeezing the both of them as tightly as she can.

“You smell like lockerroom,” Hannah says when she lets go off him, eyeing the Stanley Cup Champions hat Shane is wearing like she’s not sure if she wants to steal it or if it’s too gross and sweaty to put on her head.

Shane makes sure to find her a hat that hasn’t been on anyone’s sweaty head and after that the events of the evening sort of start to blur into each other.

They take pictures with the Cup and they bring it into the locker room and there’s beer and champagne and they take it to a club and there’s more beer and more champagne and then there’s also some vodka and tequila and Shane is usually better at getting drunk, as in he usually remembers to stick to one thing, but the rules don’t really apply when you just won the Cup. So Shane drinks champagne. And tequila. And vodka. At least he skips the beer, but he still feels like he just died at least twelve times when he wakes up the next morning.

He’s in Robbie’s room.

Or that’s where he assumes he is, because Robbie is sleeping in the other bed. He’s still wearing the clothes he went to the club in last night, except his missing a shoe. His phone is dead, but something’s ringing. Wake up call from the team.

Shane groans and Robbie joins in a second later. He does turn over to pick up the phone so Shane doesn’t have to, but then he flops back down.

“Why am I here?” Shane asks.

“It’s too fucking early for existential questions,” Robbie says.

“There’s a tiny man with a jackhammer in my skull.”

Robbie sits up with a sigh, blinking at Shane. His hair is flat on one side and sticking up on the other. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Shane says and slowly slides out of bed. He finds his shoe by the door. “I’ll go back to my room.”

Robbie laughs, then freezes. “Oh, that was bad.”

Shane would laugh at him, but that’s clearly not a good idea right now, because the man with the jackhammer would punish him for it. He pats Robbie’s foot in passing, picks up his shoe and goes across the hall to his own room. He assumes that he was just too lazy to try and get his own door open, so he followed Robbie. They were probably lucky that Robbie’s room had two beds, because a drunk Shane might have just climbed into bed with a drunk Robbie.

In his room, he plugs in his phone and takes a quick shower. He feels pretty disgusting, but also pretty amazing because he is a Stanley Cup Champion. That’s a thing that happened.

He’s buck naked when he walks out of the bathroom and checks his phone. There are way too many messages to check before team breakfast. He reads the conversation he had with Connor last night and it started out pretty coherent – Shane sent a picture of him and Robbie with the Cup, still on the ice. He remembers that. There’s a few more messages, just gibberish, and a picture that was taken at the club they were at last night of Shane with his arms and legs wrapped around the Cup. Connor replied with a happy face and told him to drink water before he goes to bed.

 _I did not drink water_ , Shane replies.

 _but you’re still alive yay_ , is the reply he gets almost immediately.

He doesn’t feel alive.

Next, he opens his text conversation with Brady, because it’s right at the top. Looks like he sent a picture at two in the morning that Brady didn’t reply to. Shane hopes to whichever god might be on his side right now that he didn’t send anything embarrassing.

It turns out to be a selfie of him and Robbie, blurry to a point where they’re almost unidentifiable. Before that, he sent a picture that’s just a lot of silver, presumably the Cup, but also blurry. It’s captioned with _I fond ur naaaame!!!!_ He also sent Brady the picture that he’d sent to Connor, right before Brady told him that he was going to bed.

And, when he goes a little further up, he finds it.

The picture of Brady on his horse.

Shane remembers seeing it yesterday when they were headed to the club, quickly checking his phone, but he didn’t actually have time to look at it. It’s Brady alright, up on a white horse with little black spots and he’s wearing a fucking cowboy hat.

 _did you just take that?_ Shane asked.

 _nope took it this morning_ , was the reply.

_little premature?_

_eh I just knew you were gonna win it tonight_ , Brady said.

After that Shane got progressively more drunk. Thankfully, he didn’t try to say much and mostly stuck to sending extremely blurry pictures.

He goes back to the horse picture to have another look. Not only is Brady wearing a cowboy hat, curls poking out from under it, he’s also wearing shorts and a tank top, showing off all that light brown skin, and the boy has arms. _Arms_. It’s quite the look.

Shane locks his phone. He’s totally still drunk.


	4. Chapter 4

Shane fucking loves the Cup.

He’s seen it before. Of course he’s seen it. He begged his parents to take him to the Hockey Hall of Fame for years until they finally gave in. His Uncle Eddie won it way back in the day when he still played for the Falcons and it’s why Shane started playing hockey in the first place. He saw those pictures of Eddie and the Cup and he wanted to win it, too.

Now he did win it and Eddie sent him the longest voice mail of all time to tell him how proud he is that Shane made it. Shane is glad he listened to it at home, because he started crying about two seconds in. And he cried again when Connor called him and told him that _he_ cried when he watched Shane lift the Cup.

By the time the parade rolls around, Shane has managed to get some sleep, has shaved off his beard, and is pretty much done crying.

His family can’t be there for the parade because it’s during the week – Hannah doesn’t have school anymore but their parents won’t let her come by herself. At first Shane doesn’t really get it, because he’s there to keep an eye on her, but when he gets handed his third beer, he starts to understand.

It’s probably for the best that it’s just him.

He’ll go home for his day with the Cup anyway, because he wants to take it back to the rink where he played in high school.

He ends up on the back of a pickup truck with Robbie, Robbie’s mom and sister, who’s also a hockey player, plus his sister’s girlfriend, who’s busy turning Robbie’s shirt into a crop top when Shane clambers onto the truck.

“You want a crop top, Wilder?” she asks Shane.

Shane’s wearing his jersey, so he declines her offer, even though he’d probably look pretty hot in a crop top. It would be more appropriate for the weather, too.

When he’s a few beers in, he doesn’t care how hot his jersey is anymore, and he runs out to hug some fans and take pictures with people and sign some jerseys, his signature so wonky that he’s not sure if those people will be happy about it later. After that he has another beer and lets it all sink in for a couple of minutes before he goes back to running about. Someone hands him a flag with the Hawks logo on his and he puts it around his shoulders like a cape.

Shane has never had more fun in his entire life. Honestly.

At the end of the parade, they’re supposed to go up on a stage and greet their extremely enthusiastic and possibly also drunk fans, but Shane isn’t sure if he can stand up straight long enough. Lena, Robbie’s sister, hands him a bottle of water and Shane gives her a hug, because he’s just so thankful and so thirsty and he hugs Lena’s girlfriend, too, so she doesn’t feel left out.

Robbie snaps a picture of them with a grin.

“You can put that on Instagram,” Lena whispers. “Wilder and his lesbians.”

Shane laughs and gives them another squeeze. They’re his people. Technically. Except he can’t tell them that they’re his people.

“Let’s go, boys,” Orlie shouts as he makes his way past them. “We’re not done with celebration.”

They sure aren’t.

They all get a turn at the microphone to thank their fans and Shane can’t remember what he said afterwards, but he remembers the cheers and he remembers that Orlie came over to lift him off his feet towards the end. Shane waves as he gets carried away and is deposited in Oreo’s lap, which is where he stays because Oreo wraps his arms around him and holds on.

Shane gets his hands on the Cup again afterwards, when they’ve relocated the party to a pub and he goes dancing with it and someone snaps a picture of him and Robbie smooching it.

They hand it over to Oreo who pretends to slow-dance with it.

“Babe,” Robbie says and throws an arm around Shane, “we should do shots.”

“No,” Shane says.

“Yes.”

“We’re gonna die.”

“But what a way to go,” Robbie says. He leans his head on Shane’s shoulder. “I was talking to Orlie earlier and he said tomorrow we should just hang out with the Cup and, you know, take it to like… public places and have some fun with it.”

Shane leans his head on top of Robbie’s. “That’s nice.”

“You wanna come?”

“Yeah, sure. If I’m still alive.”

Robbie laughs and hugs Shane close. Shane hugs him back and then they just hug for about fifteen minutes, which is probably the best thing that has happened all day. A bunch of the guys come over to join in and Shane isn’t sure if anything could have prepared him for how happy he is right now.

Every time he sees the Cup in the crowd, now sandwiched between Orlie and Niki, he feels like his heart is about to explode. And he’s going to get it for a whole day and he’ll put food in it and maybe his nieces and Jen’s dog and for the first time his postseason won’t end with exit interviews where he has to apologize for not being good enough and disappointing the fans.

Who knows if they’ll ever have a postseason like this again. He probably shouldn’t be thinking about this, but there’s a chance that this is the only time he gets to have this.

“I wanna hug the Cup again,” Shane mumbles.

“Let’s do it,” Robbie shouts and tugs him along, over to where Luke is drinking a Margarita out of the Cup. “My man wants to hug the Cup. Make way.”

Luke holds up one hand, finishes his Margarita in record time and then Shane is handed the Cup again.

Robbie posts a picture of him later – _my man loves his cup_.

It’s true. Shane does love his Cup.

The thing with having nothing to do, really, other than celebrate and be happy, is that once you’re alone in your house, the silence is pretty much unbearable. Shane needs to wrap things up here at the house before he leaves, though, so he’s looking at a couple of quiet days.

Connor’s on vacation for a couple of days and he sends a picture every now and then, but it’s not like Shane can call him just because he’s bored out of his mind.Robbie’s out, too, because he’s off to his sister’s wedding and if Shane thinks too long and hard about that, he’ll get depressed.

He can call Brady, though. Brady, who’s training by splitting wood and lugging around heavy farm equipment. Shane still hasn’t found Brady’s Instagram, but Brady sent him a workout video a couple of days ago and Shane was really proud of himself when he didn’t have a whole entire existential crisis about it. It was just to chirp Shane anyway, because Shane hasn’t had time to post any workout videos himself, like he usually does during the summer. There’s been a bit of a Stanley Cup related delay.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, so there’s a good chance that Brady’s busy doing other stuff, but Shane is really fucking bored of playing video games and he also doesn’t feel like putting more stuff away, so he gives it a shot anyway.

Brady answers on the second ring. His picture is grainy as hell at first. “Shane, hey.”

“Hey,” Shane says.

“Is that your girlfriiieeend?” someone asks in the background.

Brady disappears for a moment, the picture going shaky. It’s just colors and rapid movement for a few seconds, then Brady is back, now apparently outside, the sun in his face, the picture still pretty damn grainy. “Sorry, I just had to… move.”

“Yeah.”

“My sister is very… interested in my personal life,” Brady says. “My girlfriend broke up with me a couple of months ago and now she thinks I need to start dating someone else immediately. Anyway. What’s up?”

“Oh, uh…” Shane shrugs. He didn’t really have anything better to do. “It’s just… we haven’t talked in a while. So I wanted to… make sure you remember me.”

Brady laughs. “Yeah, you were kinda busy, partying hard and all that.”

“When you won the Cup, did you also hit a point where you thought you might die if you have another beer?”

“Oh, for sure,” Brady says. “Had another beer anyway.”

“Yeah, me too. That was a terrible idea, though.”

Brady cackles.

“It took me days to recover from all the partying,” Shane says. “I’ve never felt this old. Ronnie and Wats got so fucking drunk and they turned twenty-one like… during the season and they just kept going like they were drinking water. I used to be able to do that, what happened?”

“Yeah, soon you’ll be starting to go to bed at ten on your days off, just you wait.”

Shane flips him off. “I’m twenty-five, not sixty.”

“You’re the one who said he’s feeling like a grandpa. I’m just saying. That’s the future you’re looking at.”

Shane groans.

“Oh, hey, hey, Penny, come here,” Brady says and turns away. “Say hi to Shane, sweetheart.” He tips the phone so Brady can see Penny, who’s sat down right next to Brady.

“Aw, who’s the best girl?” Shane says. He wishes he could reach through the screen and pet her.

“She is my best girl,” Brady mutters and keeps the camera on Penny, who is quickly joined by Chewie and a German Shepard.

“Who’s the other good doggo again?”

“Oh, that’s Stella, she’s my sister’s dog. She couldn’t deal when I took Chewie with me and got herself a dog.”

“She’s cute.”

“Yeah, and now Zach’s here and he brought his dog as well, but I think they went into town.”

“What about the other one? The brown one with the floppy ears.”

“Oh, Ranger? He’s our neighbour’s dog. He was just visiting.”

“So many dogs,” Shane says. He’s extremely jealous. There’s gonna be dogs when he goes to Winnipeg, but that’s still a few weeks away. It’s a short summer, but he’s sure as fuck going on holiday first. He was going to meet up with Connor as well, but that might have to wait until August. He’ll swing by Hartford before he goes back to Denver, or maybe they’ll meet up somewhere.

For now, he’s going to Florida for a week with a bunch of the guys, then he’s invited to a wedding, then he’ll head up to Winnipeg. He’s going home to St. Paul for his day with the Cup and he’ll spend a week with his family there and then back to Winnipeg for training he goes.

“So, when I come to Ottawa next season,” Shane says, “can I pet the dogs?”

“You could have pet the dogs last time, you know?”

“I sort of had a game to play.”

“All day?”

“Well, we’d only just started talking the night before, so I couldn’t really ask you if I could come to your house to pet your dogs the next day,” Shane says.

Brady laughs. “I would have let you, but okay, I get it.”

“Next time.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar.”

“Good,” Shane says. “Circle it with highlighter.”

“Sure, and I’ll also put little hearts next to it,” Brady says and then turns the camera back on Chewie. “Isn’t that right? Because you’ll be so excited to make a new friend.”

Chewie wags his tail like he can’t wait and Shane coos at him a little bit. He can’t draw this phone call out forever, but he doesn’t want to hang up yet, so he keeps talking about nothing in particular, hoping Brady won’t get annoyed with him. But Brady keeps asking him questions, about the parade and what he’s going to do with the Cup when he has it for the day.

“You know, if you wanna come down to St. Paul…” Shane says. Maybe that’s weird. At this point he’s just rubbing it in, he should probably stop talking about the Cup altogether.

“I probably won’t have time to come down, sorry,” Brady says.

“No, that’s okay, I was just…” Shane shrugs. He was just saying stuff, because he’s afraid that they’ll hang up if he stops talking.

He needs to stop talking about the Cup, though. There’s been more than enough Cup talk between the two of them.

The day after the parade, Shane snapped another picture of Brady’s name on the Cup and sent it to him and Brady seemed pretty happy about it and replied with a picture of his Cup day four years ago. He put Penny in the Cup; she was a teeny little puppy back then.

Shane should get a puppy to put in the Cup, but he’s still convinced that he’d be a terrible dog dad and he probably couldn’t deal with leaving a dog at the house by itself when he has to leave for roadies. An easy solution for that would be to get two dogs. He is _so_ not ready for two dogs, though.

Brady is only a year older than him and he seems to be totally fine with being responsible for two living beings. Seriously, there are people who are younger than him who have it together way more than he does.

It looks like Brady almost drops his phone when a door slams shut somewhere behind him.

“Hey, can you get off your ass and– Oh, you’re still on the phone. Sorry, my bad.”

“My family loves me so much,” Brady says. “All they do is swear at me all day.” He flips off whoever just talked to him. It might have been his sister; Shane highly doubts it was his mom.

He laughs when Brady makes a face at the camera.

“Dani was asking if you want to take her for a ride,” says the same someone. “Can you?”

“Yeah, how about in…”

“Finish up your phone call, no rush.”

“Cool,” Brady says and then turns back to Shane. “Sorry, I’m all yours again.”

“Hey, if you have to go, don’t let me keep you.”

“No, hey, we weren’t done yet. Dani won’t die if she has to wait a little bit.”

Shane nods, relieved that Brady isn’t extremely eager to stop talking to him. He was worried that Brady might have just been waiting for a chance to hang up. “So you’re, like, gonna go on a ride… on a horse?”

Brady laughs like Shane just told him the most hilarious joke. “Yeah.”

“On Oswald?”

“Oh, no. Oswald is kinda old and we don’t really ride him anymore. Mine’s the Appaloosa.”

“The what?”

Brady grins. “The white one with the spots.”

“Ah. He’s pretty.” And really, really big and scary. “What’s his name?”

“It’s Monty.”

“Cute,” Shane says. And big and scary.

“He is. I love him. He’s a really chill horse.”

Shane isn’t sure how a horse can be chill when they’re that big and scary. “Say, uh, hi to him from me?”

“Will do,” Brady says.

Brady tells him a little more about Monty, but Shane still wouldn’t get too close to him if he ever had a chance to meet him in person. It sounds like they have a ton of horses and they all have names and for Shane it’s like a whole new world. He wouldn’t even know how to deal with one horse.

“Anyway,” Brady says after a while, “I see Dani lurking, so I should probably go. I’ll talk to you some other time, though.”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry.”

“Hey, no worries,” Brady says. “You got any cool Cup stuffed planned?”

“Yeah, we actually got invited to throw the first pitch at the baseball game tomorrow and we’ll bring the Cup and I guess I’ll drink too much beer again.”

Brady laughs. “Have a great time. Try not to die.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“All you can do, really.” Brady grins. “Hey, I just realized, you got rid of the beard.”

“Yeah, it was… a lot. Like, way past a point where it looked good,” Shane says. “Scruff is good, everything beyond that is a tragedy.”

“Aw, come on, it was a super decent playoff beard. At least you can grow one.”

“True,” Shane says. Robbie was ridiculously jealous of his playoff beard; it was hilarious. Shane is still glad to be rid of the beard, though.

“This is so bad, but I honestly spent the entire call wondering what was different about you.”

Shane snorts.

“Okay, so…” Brady glances to the side. “Someone is sneaking up on me…” He tilts his phone, so Shane can see the girl who’s waiting right next to Brady. “I think I do need to go now.”

“Yeah, you go and I’ll…” Shane shrugs. He’ll find something to do. This conversation with Brady lasted a lot longer than he expected anyway. “You guys have fun.”

“We sure will,” Brady says.

He waves and Shane waves back and just before he hangs up, he hears the girl say, “Who was _that_?”

Shane laughs, but the call’s ended, so nobody hears, and it’s just him and the empty house again.


	5. Chapter 5

Shane is actually going to die if he has to drink another beer.

He survived the baseball game, but someone put beer in the Cup again and then someone bought another round and then another cup mysteriously appeared in front of Shane while he was actually trying to watch the game and then someone put beer in the Cup again, and it’s probably enough now, but the boys are headed to Orlie’s house after the game and Shane wants to go, but he also wants to sleep for a hundred years.

During the game, he ate two hot dogs, just so he was putting something that’s not beer in his mouth and when he checks his phone as they leave, there’s a text from Brady waiting for him – _I just saw you eat a hot dog on tv, did you even take a bite or did you just shove the whole thing in your mouth_.

Shane can fit a great many things in his mouth, but now is probably not a good time to mention that. Apparently all the beer hasn’t completely fucked up his common sense.

He doesn’t get a chance to reply anyway, because everyone’s starting to file out of their box and Shane gets pulled into a car by Niki and then he’s on his way to Orlie’s house with the boys. He actually has trouble staying awake on the drive over. Oreo is on Instagram, posting pictures of the game and Niki’s talking to someone on the phone in Russian and it’s threatening to lull Shane right to sleep.

Shane has been neglecting his Instagram. He did post some pictures of the parade, pictures of the Cup, of the boys, but it’s not his regular summer content.

It’s not a regular summer, though.

They get dropped off at Orlie’s place – Shane’s asleep by the time they get there and Niki wakes him up with a slap on the thigh.

“Wha–” Shane looks around and finds Niki cackling next to him. Oreo has already slid out of the car, watching Shane closely as he clambers out as well. “Did you draw a dick on my face?” Shane asks.

“Oreo doesn’t draw dick,” Niki says as he walks past. “Draw art.”

“Art,” Shane echoes.

“Beautiful art,” Oreo says and winks. “Right, Niki?”

“Yes,” Niki replies with an exaggerated wink in return.

Okay, so there’s nothing on Shane’s face and they were just fucking around. Good to know. He flips off Oreo on his way to the house, where Orlie’s wife is ushering them inside, handing them drinks.

It’s not beer.

That’s an improvement, but there’s vodka involved, so when Oreo and Wats suggest that they should play human Jenga a few drinks later, Shane thinks it’s the best idea ever and gets in on the action. At least until he tries to lie down on top of them, stumbles and falls ass-first into a really hard wooden armrest. After that human Jenga doesn’t seem like such a great idea anymore.

At least he didn’t break anything. Other than his ass.

Orlie’s wife laughs at him when he apologizes and hands him another drink. Which he drinks, because it’s not beer. Some of the guys are still playing, clearly having learned nothing from Shane’s mistakes, but there’s only five of them, so they’re basically just rolling around on the really soft rug in Orlie’s rec room and laughing their asses off.

Shane snaps a picture and sends it to Robbie – _these idiots are stanley cup champions_. He really misses Robbie and because he’s had too many drinks, he tells him that, too.

 _miss u too babe_ , Robbie replies, with a ton of kissy faces, and then he says, _i’m back on wednesday and i’ll take u out for dinner._

Shane grins at his phone.

“Wilder, why didn’t you bring girlfriend?”

Shane looks up at Niki, whose face has gone very, very red. “It’s Robbie.”

“Robbie is your girlfriend?” Niki asks.

“No, I’m texting Robbie.”

“Then why you smile like you’re texting girlfriend?” Niki asks and wiggles his eyebrows.

“What you have to understand,” Oreo says, leaning in from the right, “is that Robbie is Wilder’s girlfriend, only without all the stuff that makes having a girlfriend worthwhile.”

Niki frowns.

“It’s a bromance,” Oreo says. “Wilder is a big bromance guy. Remember when Waldo was still here? Waldo was Wilder’s girlfriend, too. But, again, without all the fun girlfriend extras.”

“I don’t understand what you say,” Niki says and pulls a face. “But I miss Waldo.”

Oreo sighs. “Me, too.” He reaches out to flick at Shane’s wrist. “Hey, Wilder, let’s call Waldo.”

“No,” Shane says, because he knows for a fact that Connor is out on a hot date tonight and wouldn’t appreciate a phone call from his extremely drunk teammates. And he just got a text. From Brady. And Oreo doesn’t need to see that. Not that he has anything to hide, because Brady is obviously just a friend who happens to be on a different team, which is really not an unusual thing, but Oreo still doesn’t need to see that.

Oreo is still making grabby hands, though, so Shane needs to think fast. Except he can’t think fast when he’s drunk, so he just tucks his phone under his shirt. The thing is, Oreo is just as fucking drunk as he is, so he doesn’t care that Shane’s phone is under his fucking shirt and dives over Niki to pull it out.

Shane, in an attempt to not have Oreo’s hands under his shirt, ducks out of the way and slides off the side of the couch and lands on his ass again, because that’s just how things are going for him today.

Oreo’s face appears above him a moment later, mildly concerned. “You okay, man?”

“I think I’m just gonna stay down here,” Shane mutters.

Oreo sticks out his bottom lip.

“Hey, who wants to jump in the pool?”

Oreo disappears instantly. Shane gets back on the couch and stays there with Niki, Wats, and Luke, who is fast asleep in an armchair, hugging a stuffed bear that probably belongs to Orlie’s kid. Who’s apparently fast asleep in her room upstairs. Shane honestly wouldn’t mind being asleep right now either and he nearly closes his eyes, despite the risk that he might wake up with a dick on his face after all, but then he remembers that he still hasn’t checked that text from Brady.

Should be safe to read it now that Oreo is outside with about ten of the guys and a bunch of the wives and girlfriends who joined them after the game. Hopefully someone out there isn’t wasted and knows CPR. Just in case.

Shane pulls his phone out from under his shirt, Wats’s eyebrows twitching a little when he looks over. Shane decides to ignore him, because he had a very good reason for putting his phone down his shirt, and opens the text from Brady – apparently he sent another one earlier that Shane missed somehow. It’s a picture of Chewie and Penny wearing flower crowns that Shane’s niece made for them – _Stella was supposed to wear one of them but she tried to eat it. not a flower crown kinda dog I guess_. And then, just now, _are you still alive_.

 _nott sure if im still alive_ , Shane replies, _pretty sur i brok my ass_.

 _lol how?_ Brady asks.

 _jenga_ , Shane only says, because that surely explains everything.

After that he does fall asleep and he sleeps exceptionally well, considering that the other guys aren’t exactly quiet when they finally disperse, some of them taking an Uber home, some of them finding various other surfaces to sleep on.

In the morning, Shane wakes up with several stickers on his face, Oreo grinning at him when he shuffles into the kitchen, peeling a sparkly Elsa sticker off his forehead.

“Looks like Elena has a pretty cool sticker collection,” Oreo says.

“Fuck off, I don’t believe for a second that it was her.”

Oreo shrugs. “I might have asked her if I could borrow some stickers.”

Shane sighs as he peels Olaf off his cheek. He doesn’t even like _Frozen_ that much. He’s more of a _Brave_ kinda guy. He puts Olaf on Niki’s forehead instead, because it seems fitting, but it doesn’t stick properly, so it slowly sails down and eventually settles on Niki’s donut.

“Thanks,” Niki deadpans.

“Sure,” Shane says and scrubs his hand over his face to make sure that there aren’t any more Disney characters on it. There actually is a reindeer sticker on his shirt, but he’ll leave that one. He doesn’t remember what the reindeer was called, but he always liked it best. He grabs a donut from the huge box on the counter that someone – Shane assumes Orlie’s wife – got for them and pours himself a ton of coffee.

He might get food from the Grill on the way home. Maybe one of those extremely greasy breakfast sandwiches. Except he doesn’t have his car right now. Maybe he’ll get it delivered. And one of those cheese and mushroom flatbreads. And garlic fries. Always garlic fries. Toby hated those fries and wouldn’t eat them, so Shane couldn’t eat them when Toby was coming over, otherwise he’d complain. It didn’t really bug him that much when they were still dating, but now it suddenly does. Toby’s perfect new boyfriend probably never eats garlic.

“You okay, Wilder?”

“Huh?”

Luke has sidled up to the kitchen island as well, hair all over the place. If Elena is around, she’ll probably want to braid his hair later. “You look like you’re having a crisis.”

“I am,” Shane says and takes a big sip of his coffee, like maybe it’ll help with the crisis. But a Toby-related crisis usually isn’t done away by chugging coffee; he should know that by now.

He eats a second donut, even though that won’t help either.

He shares an Uber with Oreo on the way home and Oreo is uncharacteristically quiet, yawning a few times and mumbling about how he really wants a burger. Shane can relate and mumbles something about how he really wants a burger, too.

Oreo hugs him goodbye, because this is probably where they part ways for the summer – Oreo is heading back home to California in a couple of days – and Shane is leaving next weekend to go to Florida with Robbie, Luke and Pad. Afterwards, he’s going straight to Winnipeg to get back into shape. He lost a ton of weight during the playoffs. In August, he’s popping back down to St. Paul for his day with the Cup. Makes the most sense.

And maybe part of him isn’t extremely keen on going home.

Not that he’s examining that part too closely.

“Please tell me how you broke your ass while you were playing Jenga.”

“Okay, for the record,” Shane says and grabs another garlic fry, “my ass is fine.”

“I’m sure it is,” Brady replies.

Shane didn’t mean to call him.

Honestly.

In his defense, he tried to call Connor first, but Connor didn’t pick up, probably because he had that hot date yesterday. Shane was expecting as much. Then his hand slipped and he was calling Brady. And Brady picked up.

And now he can see Brady grinning, sitting in a field behind a barn with a dog next to him, while Shane tells him how they played human Jenga and he fell on his ass and nearly broke it.

“Please tell me the human Jenga wasn’t your idea,” Brady says.

“I mean, it wasn’t, but I was definitely down to try it.”

Brady hums. “I guess we can keep being friends.”

“But I’m on thin ice?”

“Eh…” Brady shrugs. “I mean, breaking your ass while you were playing human Jenga is actually a pretty cool Cup story.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t actually break my ass.”

“I know, I know, your ass is fine.”

“It sure is,” Shane says.

Brady grins. “Anyway, it’s– Hey.” Chewie has pushed himself into the picture, bugging Brady for head-scratches. “Hi, yeah, I know, I haven’t paid attention to you in five whole seconds.”

“How dare you,” Shane says. “You need to pay attention to him all the time.”

“I know,” Brady mumbles and the picture goes shaky when he leans down to snuggle Chewie. “I’m sorry, bud.”

“Where’s Penny?”

“Oh, Dani is trying to teach her to bring her stuff in the barn, but I don’t think it’s working too well.”

“Aw.”

“It’s okay, she’ll get over it. I mean, I did teach them some tricks, right?” Brady holds up his hand and Chewie obediently puts his paw in it.

“Amazing,” Shane says. He doesn’t comment on the purple nail polish that Brady is wearing, but Brady seems to realise what he’s looking at anyway and holds up his hand.

“Dani thinks purple is totally my color,” he says and wiggles his fingers. “The thing is, whenever I let her paint my nails, she never lets me take it off.”

“Why would you take it off? It looks great,” Shane says.

“Well… Zach refuses to let her put nail polish on him, because he thinks he’s less of a dude when he wears it…”

“But you don’t.”

“I mean… No. But… people give you weird looks sometimes. Anyway… for how much longer are you staying in Denver?”

That’s a swift change of topic if Shane’s ever seen one. “Uh, just a few more days and then I’m going on vacation with some of the guys.”

“Cool. Where are you headed?”

“Florida. Just… you know, beach house, food, nothing too crazy.”

“Beer?”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Shane says. “No, actually, I think I’ll probably be able to deal with more beer in a week.”

“Yeah, you’ll be okay. Send pictures. Of… the beach, or whatever.”

“Sure,” Shane says. “As long as you keep sending pictures of the dogs.”

Brady grins. “Always.”

“So,” Robbie says when he plops down next to Shane.

Shane nearly drops his phone into the sand. He wasn’t expecting company. He snuck away after dinner because Luke and Pad started watching _It_ and Shane knew that he’d be better off if he didn’t see a single second of that movie. Robbie was in the kitchen, on the phone with his girlfriend, so Shane didn’t want to stick around there either.

Robbie is clearly done with his phone call, though, because now he’s sitting next to Shane, wearing shorts and a bandana and the oldest pair of flip-flops the world has ever seen. It’s a good thing that it’s starting to get dark, because Shane doesn’t want to be seen anywhere close to those flip-flops.

“What’s up?” Robbie says.

“Uh…” Shane tucks away his phone. “I just wasn’t feeling that movie.”

Robbie laughs. “Yeah, okay, I get that.” He elbows Shane in the side. “Who have you been talking to? Someone special?”

“It’s Waldo.”

Robbie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Waldo?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s…”

“No, I mean I was just texting Waldo,” Shane says and slaps the back of Robbie’s head. “Seriously. Waldo?”

“Well, you were always really close and you were sad when he left–”

“Because we’re _friends_.”

“Okay, yeah. I just thought… I don’t know. You’ve been smirking at your phone a lot, is all.”

“I have not been smirking.”

Robbie shrugs in a _you were definitely smirking but whatever_ sort of way.

“I seriously–”

“Hey, relax,” Robbie says and throws his arm around Shane. “I was just wondering if there’s something going on.”

“There’s nothing going on,” Shane mutters. He fucking wishes there was something going on, he’s not even picky at this point, but he still has to be careful, even more now that he just won the Cup. He can’t just waltz into a gay bar.

“I’m sorry, dude. I know this is harder for you than it is for most of us. But have you thought about, like, getting Grindr or something?”

“I’m gonna pretend that you didn’t just say that,” Shane splutters.

“What? Lots of the guys have Tinder, it’s the same, just for, like…” Robbie shrugs. “You’d totally find someone.”

“I can’t put my face on there.”

“Just put your abs.”

It’s not like Shane hasn’t considered it.He’s also considered every possible outcome. “The thing is,” he says, “most guys will probably think that it’s not a real picture of me. And if I actually meet up with one of them… What if he recognizes me and tells the entire world?”

“How’d you know that the boyfriend you had wouldn’t tell anyone?”

“Well, when we met he had no idea who I was, so he just started flirting with me next to the coffee at the grocery store. He was just… a nice guy. I knew he’d never tell anyone. Not that I wasn’t scared shitless in the beginning, but…” Shane trails off, because he doesn’t need to ruin another day by thinking too much about what he had with Toby.

He got lucky that one time. There’s no way of telling if he’ll ever get that lucky again.

Grindr definitely isn’t the way, though.

Robbie scrunches up his nose. “Sorry, I guess I’m not very helpful.”

“It’s fine,” Shane says, even though it’s definitely not fine. He’s not fine. It’s killing him.

He’s so fucking lonely, but it’s not like he can tell Robbie that. He tells Waldo sometimes, because Waldo is far away and the pitying looks aren’t so bad over Facetime. But Robbie is sitting next to him and Robbie might give him a pity hug and then he’d probably cry.

It’s not a good time for crying.

They’re on vacation in Florida and they won the Cup and this is the best summer of his life. It won’t stop being the best summer of his life just because he wakes up alone every morning. He seriously needs to get it together, because in all likelihood none of this will change any time soon. He’ll keep waking up alone.

Robbie leans over to bump his shoulder against Shane’s. “Hey, if you get bored this summer, come visit me, okay?”

“Okay,” Shane says. “I mean, we’ll be back in Denver in no time anyway.”

“Yeah, I know, but seriously, if you get bored…”

“I’ll come by,” Shane says.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

Robbie snorts. “Hey, tell Waldo I say hi.”

“Will do,” Shane says, although he’s pretty sure that the text isn’t from Connor, because Connor was headed to the movies with his girlfriend.

Must be from Brady then.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s a 500-mile drive from Winnipeg to St. Paul.

Most of the time, Shane flies back and forth. Not that he has to go back an forth a lot in the first place. He always goes to St. Paul first after the end of the season before he heads up to Winnipeg. He has a trainer he likes and he never has trouble getting ice time at his uncle’s rink.

The older he gets, the less time he spends in St. Paul.

He could probably find a trainer back home. He could probably spend more time with his family. His mom would love that. Shane would go insane after two weeks. That’s always been the limit ever since he first moved out.

This summer it’s not something he has to worry about. After his vacation in Florida, Shane heads to Winnipeg and gets back to work. He stays in his uncle’s basement apartment that has its own door and a bathroom, a small kitchen and a pretty decent bed, so it’s good enough for Shane. He doesn’t see a point in getting his own place, not really, not when he’s only here for a few weeks during the summer. And he pays rent.

He meets up with his trainer less than twenty-four hours after his plane has touched down and makes sure he gets back into it quickly. He lost a ton of weight during playoffs, but he’s back to eating the way their team nutritionist would like him to eat now. All the cuts and bruises have healed and he’s actually itching to get ready for the next season, despite the exhaustion that followed the playoffs.

Most of the guys he usually trains with have been in town for a while. Whits, who grew up less than three miles away from Shane’s uncle’s house and Cally, who plays for the Falcons and spends a chunk of his summer in the area. His wife is from here, so is her entire family, so it makes sense for them to stick around. Shane and Whits get invited over for barbecues often enough. He likes his summer crew and they like that he can easily get them ice time at his uncle’s rink. The local hockey players don’t mind when they show up for open hockey practice either.

Even though it’s been a few weeks since they won the Cup, it seems to Shane that it was about three days ago, and it looks like the rest of the summer will go by just as quickly. Shane excuses himself from training in early August when it’s time for him to head down to St. Paul for the first time this summer.

It’s actually been a year since he last set foot in his parents’ house.

He didn’t go home for Christmas, because… He’s not even sure why. He wasn’t feeling it. At all. He did go home the year before and it didn’t exactly bring him joy, so he let Pad invite him over, together with a bunch of the other single guys and the rookies and he had one of the best Christmases of all time. Not quite as good as the Christmas where he got his first pair of skates, but it was close enough. Anyway, no Christmas will ever be better than the one where he got his first pair of skates.

During the bye week, it didn’t even occur to him to go home. Perhaps it should have. He went to the Bahamas instead.

In the summer, he doesn’t really have much of an excuse not to go. And he likes seeing his parents. And his sisters. Really. But seriously not for more than two weeks.

This year he’s only driving down for a couple of days. He considered flying, but driving back and forth seems more appealing this year. He’s done it before. He’s had years where he stopped somewhere along the way and spent the night. Whatever he feels like. Just him and the road for 500 miles. It’s beautiful. A little lonely, sometimes, but Shane doesn’t mind so much when he has the radio on and he sings along – badly – to his favorite songs.

So he says goodbye to the boys for a couple of days and borrows the red truck his uncle has had for ages. Shane always drives it during the summer and has offered multiple times that he’ll pay for insurance and for repairs, but his uncle always waves him off.

It’s too bad that Shane can’t take him down to St. Paul with him so he could be there for his day with the Cup. When Shane mentioned it to his Uncle Eddie, he just laughed and said, “I won the damn thing myself, I know what it looks like.”

Which… yeah. He did win the damn thing himself and it made Shane want to play hockey more than anything. He almost wishes he could have two Cup days, one in St. Paul and one in Winnipeg. It really was hard to decide, but he had to go with St. Paul in the end, because that’s where he learned how to skate, that’s where he played his first game.

Whits and Cally say goodbye to him by dumping a ton of confetti into his gym bag while he’s in the shower and they also throw some on him when he leaves, so some of it ends up in the truck and comes flying out the door when he makes it to his parents’ house just outside of St. Paul.

Hannah is sitting on one of the chairs on the front porch when Shane pulls into the driveway, almost like she was waiting for him, except that there’s no way that she’s _actually_ waiting for him. Maybe she’s waiting for a friend to pick her up.

She salutes him when he climbs out of the truck, which thankfully survived another 500 miles.

“Hey,” Shane says. He grabs his duffle and walks up to her. “Heading out?”

“More like hiding out,” Hannah says.

Shane frowns at her, but realizes what she means mere seconds later when someone inside the house yells, “It’s not like you ever take the time to listen. There are plenty of things I could use your help with, but you always wait for an extra invitation instead of just doing them–”

“Because when I try to help out I’m always doing it wrong.”

“Because you _are_ doing it wrong.”

“Welcome home,” Hannah says drily.

“What happened?”

“Dad forgot to pick up potatoes on the way home and it escalated quickly. Like, even quicker than usual.”

Shane sighs. It’s not like Hannah didn’t tell him about this. He knows they’ve been arguing a lot, but walking in on one of the arguments like this – he wasn’t exactly prepared for that. “Did we need potatoes that badly?” Shane asks.

“I mean, it’s not even about the potatoes anymore,” Hannah mutters. “I guess they’ll stop when you walk in. They don’t stop if it’s just me. They sometimes do me the curtesy of hitting pause when I walk by, but as soon as I’m out of sight, they get right back into it.”

Shane glances at the front door. “I’m going in.”

“Godspeed,” Hannah says and grabs her phone, like she couldn’t care less, but Shane sees her watch him out of the corner of her eyes.

Shane barrels right in with an unnecessarily loud, “Hey, I’m back.”

The argument dies down immediately and his mom comes out of the kitchen to wrap him into a hug. “Honey, there you are. I was just about to make dinner, I just need to run to the store real quick.”

“Or,” Shane says, “I could take you guys out for dinner.”

“Yes,” Hannah shouts from the porch.

“That’s very sweet of you, but aren’t you tired? You’ve been driving all day.”

“He offered, so it’s fine,” is Hannah’s input. Still from the porch.

“Yeah, really, it’s fine,” says Shane, because if someone has to go out and buy potatoes, it might start another argument and he’d just rather pay for dinner. “We can go wherever you want.”

“Steak,” Hannah shouts and finally blesses them with her presence as well.

“Sounds good to me,” Shane says. They’re not often in agreement over things, but when it comes to food, they pretty much see eye-to-eye. They’re not close enough in age to have had regular fights when they were younger. It was mostly about stuff that mysteriously disappeared from their rooms and about who got to watch TV.

They always agreed that asparagus is disgusting, though.

“Where’s Dad?” Shane asks.

“Oh, he was just…” His mom waves vaguely at the kitchen door. “Shane, honey, why don’t you take your stuff upstairs and then we’ll head out when you’re ready. Do you need help?”

“No, I’m good,” Shane says and slowly makes his way up the stairs to his childhood bedroom.

Hannah follows him, in complete silence, but mouths _thank you_ before they part ways in the hallway.

Shane’s day with the Cup isn’t that much of a spectacle. He didn’t want it to be either. He has it at his parents’ house in the morning and they eat cereal out of it and Shane promises Jen’s kids that they’ll put ice cream in it later.

After that, they’re off to the rink where Shane learned how to play hockey. They invited all the peewee teams and they all skate together and take pictures with the Cup and Shane grabs his peewee coach and takes a picture with him, too. There’s a huge crowd gathered at the rink and Shane tries to get to everyone, but there’s too many people to be sure.

They take the Cup back to this parents’ backyard for a barbecue afterwards. Shane invited his family, the neighbors, former teammates who are still in town, former coaches, and then some of Hannah’s friends, who were a last minute addition. Hannah started being extremely nice to him last night for no apparent reason, until she eventually confessed that two of her friends were asking if they could come by to take pictures with the Cup. Shane told her to just invite them to the barbecue.

He’s pretty sure that his parents’ backyard has never seen so many people.

They bought a ton of food and Shane’s dad recruited their next door neighbor to bring over his grill. Shane also gets out the ice cream, so Jen’s kids can eat it out of the Cup, the Cup Keeper always lurking in the background to make sure they don’t get any stupid ideas. Shane eats a ton of ice cream, too, and then sends all his friends pictures of it afterwards. Honestly, he’s totally lost track of how many photos he’s been asked for. As soon as he steps away from the Cup, someone will come up to him and ask him if he has a second to take a picture with them and the Cup.

Shane happily obliges every time. Obviously.

Most of these people played a huge part in his development. His parents and his former teammates and coaches and the neighbors who took him to practice when his parents didn’t have time and the neighbors who gave him their kids’ old net to play with. Taking pictures with everyone is the least he can do.

Hannah’s friends introduce themselves and are almost shy about it when they ask him for a picture. Neither of them is touching the Cup.

“You can if you want to,” Shane says.

“They’re hockey players,” Hannah says from a few feet away. “They’re scared they won’t win the big silver bowl if they touch it.”

“Oh,” Shane says. As it turns out, one of them plays for the same team Shane used to play for and the other one plays for a local girls’ team. “Yeah, don’t wanna jinx it. I get it.”

“Thanks for inviting us.”

“Sure, no worries,” Shane says. He had no idea that Hannah had friends who were pleasant people.

After they’ve scurried away to grab themselves a burger or a hot dog, Shane has a couple of minutes to take a deep breath and have a look at his phone. He has so many text notifications that it makes his head swim. There’s no point in looking at any of them now, because he won’t have time to reply anyway, he just quickly reads the two at the top, the first one from Brady – _I see you have good taste in ice cream_ – and the other one from Connor – _where are the pics of you sitting in the cup_.

Shane would honestly love to get a picture of himself sitting in the Cup, but his ass is too big for that. And the Cup police might not let him. Which is probably not unreasonable. It’s not like he wants to break the thing. It’s off to Michigan after this.

He almost makes it to the third message, but then someone else sidles up to him and says, “Hey.”

Shane looks up and finds Mike Wilson standing next to him. Mike Wilson in all his six-foot-four, freckled, curly-haired glory.

Mike Wilson, who once gave him a blowjob in a closet.

Mike Wilson.

“Mike,” Shane says. “Hey.”

“Sorry, I sort of crashed your party,” Mike says.

“Hey, no, I didn’t know you were in town, otherwise I would have invited you. Trey, Dan and Colton are here, too.”

“Yeah, I just talked to them. I’ve been lurking around here for a while. You looked pretty busy.”

“Sorry. You wanna come take a picture with the Cup?”

“Sure, that’d be cool.”

Shane waves Jen over to take a picture of them and then gets pulled into a conversation with one of the neighbors and Mike disappears again. Which is too bad, because Shane would have liked to exchange more than just a few words with him. And he also would have liked to stare at him just a little while longer, because Mike has always been hot, but he’s playing in a totally different league now.

He finds him again about half an hour later when some of their guests have dispersed. Mike is over by the grill, talking to Shane’s dad, eating one of the last hot dogs.

Shane grabs himself one, too, and takes a few steps away from the grill, and away from his dad, and Mike follows him with a smirk.

“You didn’t bring your…” Shane looks around. “Your partner?”

“It’s okay, you can say boyfriend, it’s not like I need to hide it anymore,” Mike says with a shrug. “I came out to my parents when I moved to San Francisco with Aaron.”

“He’s not here?”

“He broke up with me in January. And he took the dog. Asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I moved to Seattle, it’s nice there.”

“What are you doing up there?”

“Still doing PR,” Mike says. “I keep checking if the Sailors have any openings. Would be nice to do something hockey-related.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’d be cool.”

“You’re still my favorite player, though, I promise,” Mike says and grins at him.

Shane grins back at him. _Up_ at him. “You seeing anyone in Seattle?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“No,” Mike says. “I’m not really over the whole Aaron thing. I mean, we started dating in freshman year and I thought… Well, doesn’t matter. Are you?”

Shane quickly shakes his head. He looks over his shoulder. There are maybe twenty people still around. He wonders if he can get away with asking Mike to stick around a little while longer. He’s not really sure what he’d be trying to achieve if he did ask him, but–

“Hey, Shane, thanks so much for inviting us,” says Coach Atkins, who used to coach Shane’s peewee team. “We’re heading out. Really proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Shane says. “And thanks for coming.”

He spends a bunch of time shaking hands after that. His dad starts cleaning up the grill, they say goodbye to the Cup, and then it’s just his family and a few neighbors and Mike, who’s helping Shane’s mom gather up all the paper plates and cups that are left lying around.

“Hey, thank you,” Shane says when he heads over to them.

“Sure, I mean, I technically wasn’t invited, so it’s the least I can do.”

“I honestly would have invited you if I’d known you were in town,” Shane says. “For how long are you here?”

“I’m flying back to Seattle on Sunday. Are you here for the whole summer?”

“No, I’m going back to Winnipeg in a couple of days, but if you wanna hang out… I mean, you’re probably here to see your family, but…”

“No, we should totally hang out,” Mike says. “Text me. You have my number, right? And… if you don’t, you know where I live.”

Shane laughs. “Yeah.”

“Well, I guess I’d better head back.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Shane says, which is… possibly a very strange thing to do right now, but Mike just goes with it and walks around the house with him.

It’s a pretty narrow path between the fence and the house and they have to squeeze past the trash cans and a bike that belongs to Hannah and clearly hasn’t been used in a while.

All things considered, it’s a pretty good place for both of them to stop walking, for Shane to clear his throat, for Mike to smile and say, “Listen, I don’t want to, like, overstep, but earlier it sounded like… I don’t know. You said you’re not seeing anyone, right?”

“Right,” Shane says, instead of, _You definitely have my permission to do whatever the fuck you want right now_.

Mike clearly understands what he’s saying, though, because he leans down, slowly, like he’s trying to give Shane an out if he wants it, but Shane so doesn’t want it. He steps closer, tilts up his head, and then Mike kisses him, and for a second Shane isn’t sure if he remembers how any of this works, but then Mike’s hands are at his sides and he pulls him closer, just for a second, and kisses him thoroughly before he lets go of him, pulling away slowly.

“Gotta be careful out here,” Mike whispers.

“I thought it wasn’t a secret anymore.”

“Well, they know about me,” Mike says. “I’m a little worried about _you_.”

“Right, yeah.” Shane tugs his fingers through his hair. He should definitely be more careful than this, even though they’re between the house and the fence, which is thankfully taller than them. He was just sort of overwhelmed with just how long it’s been ever since he last kissed somebody and how nice it was to be close to someone again. How nice it was that someone wanted to be close to him.

“I’ll go,” Mike says, “but I’m around. And available. At least until Sunday.”

Shane nods. That offer clearly has an expiration date, but Shane can live with that. This is way more than he was expecting when he came here.


	7. Chapter 7

“This was a great idea.”

Shane hums in reply. He’s become pretty good at sneaking around. When he and Toby were still together, nobody ever figured out what was going on. Nobody ever even knew that Shane was seeing anyone. Connor knew. But that was different, because Connor lived with him and it would have been hard for him not to notice, but Connor was also pretty good at minding his own business.

Mike isn’t new to this either. They basically had the same idea – hop in the truck, drive as far as they’re willing, find themselves a nice place where no one will bug them for a few hours. Shane told his family that they were going fishing.

Hannah, of course, threw a, “You don’t even have any fishing equipment,” at him before he had a chance to escape this morning.

“Mike has it,” Shane said. “Do I look like I’ve ever gone fishing in my entire life?”

“Then why are you going?”

“Because I haven’t seen Mikey in actual years and I wanna hang out with him, so if he wants to go fishing, we’ll go fishing. Or he’ll go fishing and I’ll be there for moral support.”

Hannah walked away cackling. “I knew you’d never touch a fish.”

At least no one’s expecting him to come home with an actual dead fish. Because Hannah was right. Fishing is not something Shane would ever do voluntarily. Mike did catch two fish when they got here and then quickly joined Shane in the bed of the truck to make out with him, which was far more entertaining than watching him pull slimey fish out of the creek.

Mike did offer to give him one of the fish so he had something to bring home, but Shane explained to him that his family may not know that he’s gay and that he solely came here to put his mouth on Mike’s dick, but they do know that he’s nothing more than a spectator in this fishing trip.

“You play golf then?” Mike asks.

“Don’t laugh, but Connor and I used to go golfing a lot. I like it.”

“Like a real NHL player.”

“Well, I _am_ a real NHL player.”

Mike grinned. “Yeah. I don’t think I ever told you this, but I’m super happy for you. You know, that you made it. Even before you won the Cup. It’s cool to see someone you know out there.”

They ate the sandwiches Shane brought for lunch and had a beer each and Shane almost regrets that he didn’t bring sleeping bags so they can make themselves more comfortable. He has two blankets, but he’s hilariously unprepared for this otherwise.

It really was their only option, though. He couldn’t take Mike to his parents’ house, because Hannah’s there most of the time, and he did go to Mike’s house once while both his parents were out, but his mom came home earlier than expected and Shane nearly broke his fucking neck while trying to get his pants back on as quickly as possible and it wasn’t an experience he’d care to repeat.

They could have checked into a motel or something, but it seemed… sort of skeevy. There’s other people in motels, in hotels, and they could have obviously arranged this like they were planning some kind of heist, but then Mike suggested this before Shane could come up with an elaborate plan of how to get them into the same hotel room without anyone noticing, and Shane agreed. It seemed less stressful.

A motel would have been more comfortable, but it’s not like they can change anything about it now. Weirdly enough, Shane feels safer out here in the middle of nowhere.

“How do you know about this spot?”

Mike grins. His eyes are closed and he was probably starting to doze off. “I used to bring guys here a lot.”

“Guys?”

“Yeah. I almost asked you if you wanted to come out here with me. You know, after that party. But you were sort of avoiding me at school, so I wasn’t sure if you were… I don’t know… in denial or if you just didn’t want to speak to me ever again.”

“I was freaking the fuck out.”

“Yeah, I get it. Anyway. There were other guys who were interested, you know?”

“Like who?”

“I don’t kiss and tell. Never told anyone about you either.”

Shane lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“Not something you should even have to thank me for,” Mike says. He squints up at Shane. “I guess you never really had a chance to, uh… hang out with other guys.”

“I had a boyfriend in Denver.”

“Not anymore?”

“Not anymore,” Shane says.

“I hope he didn’t take your dog.” Mike stretches and his shirt rides up a little. The fly of his shorts is still open. “You know, you’re a really great rebound guy. You were last time, too.”

“Oh, was I?”

“Yeah, although back in high school, I got back together with the guy who’d broken up with me. He was a senior, though, so he left a couple of months later. Never saw him again.”

“Oh.”

“I know,” Mike says, “it’s tragic.” His lips twitch. “I’m mostly over it, though. At least he didn’t take my dog.”

“I’m sorry that the other guy took your dog.”

“Yeah. My dog and my will to live.” Mike clears his throat. “Sorry, I’m gonna stop now. You wanna go again?”

“In a bit,” Shane mumbles and reaches down to run his fingers through Mike’s short hair. Kinda sounded like he needs it.

Mike makes a content noise and closes his eyes again.

While he takes a nap, Shane tries to check his phone but quickly realizes that he doesn’t get a signal out here. Probably for the best. He sincerely hopes that his mom didn’t try to get in touch about dinner and started thinking that something happened to him when he didn’t reply. His parents are hopefully smart enough to figure out what’s going on.

A few hours later, when they head back, Shane gets about fifty texts at once, more than half of them in the team group chat, a few from Robbie, one from Connor, and then a couple from Brady. Shane takes a look at them when they stop for dinner at a diner.

_hey uh…. are you like… allergic to shirts_

_you should have that checked out_

_might be a serious condition_

And then, a while later, _I was kidding but now you’re not replying, should I be worried?_

Shane is pretty sure that all of those were in response to the picture he posted on Instagram this morning. He went for a run and ran through some drills his trainer has him doing during the summer and took a picture after, sitting in his parents’ backyard, shirt off, slung around his neck. It was very on brand.

Maybe he’s a bit of a show-off.

 _I’m not dead_ , Shane replies, _I just went fishing_.

 _I can’t believe you went fishing with someone who isn’t me_ , Brady says about five seconds later.

Shane smiles down at his phone. _I can’t believe I went fishing at all_.

Not that he actually did any fishing.

They have steak for dinner and they talk about nothing in particular on the drive back – Mike talks about work, Shane talks about Winnipeg.

“Thanks for today,” Shane says when he drops Mike off.

“Sure,” Mike replies. “Have a good season, yeah?”

Shane nods. He almost asks Mike if he wants to hang out when he’s in Seattle next season. He’ll be there for two games, but it’s not like he wants to turn this into anything more serious than it is. Seeing someone twice a season? Yeah, that’s not going to work unless it’s… an informal meeting. Instead, he says, “Hey, if you ever want game tickets, just let me know, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Mike says.

Shane waves at him and then returns to his parents’ place without any fish, and with a slightly sunburnt nose and a smile on his face.

He has barely made it to the front door when he’s greeted by the voices of his parents drifting out of the open kitchen window. It smells like something might have burnt not too long ago and he assumes that’s what caused the argument. He listens for a few seconds and it’s mostly – “You can’t expect me to care about this after I spent all day at work,” and, “I have to do everything in this house by myself on top of working full time.”

It sounds like the regular stuff, except when Shane was smaller, they also argued about who’d take him to hockey practice. They sure as fuck were glad when he was able to drive himself.

He’s about to unlock the door when he hears his dad yell, “Well, if you’re so unhappy, why don’t we get a fucking divorce?”

Shane freezes on the doorstep.

He hopes that Hannah is still at Jen’s place. She doesn’t need to hear this stuff. Instead of going in, he walks around the house, ducks under the kitchen window, and makes himself comfortable on one of the deck chairs in the back. He can still hear their voices, now louder, and thinks about that time Hannah called him to talk about how much their parents were arguing. He didn’t think it was this bad. And he sure as hell hopes they don’t threaten each other with a divorce when Hannah’s home.

Shane screws around on his phone for a little bit, checks Instagram – his picture from earlier was pretty popular, even though the guys are chirping him in the comments. Doesn’t really matter what he posts, though, he gets chirped no matter what. It’s an occupational hazard.

As he scrolls through pictures, a text from Brady comes in. _so did you catch anything?_

 _I’m really terrible at fishing_ , Shane replies. This is not the time to mention that he didn’t even try. Well, he held the rod for like two seconds. Before he turned his attention to… other rods. Anyway. He changes the topic quickly and adds, _I’m sitting outside my parents house and I’m waiting for them to stop arguing_.

 _yikes_ , says Brady, and, _if you need a distraction I’m totally available_.

Shane won’t say no to that.

He starts a video call and Brady picks up within seconds. Shane can barely see him.

“Hey, sorry, give me one sec,” Brady says, the picture going shaky as he moves. “The wifi is really bad over here.”

“Over where?”

“In the stables. We have an office and the office has wifi, but it’s not that great on the other end. Just had to move a little closer.” Brady grins, then he moves the camera. “Look who wants to say hi.”

It’s Brady’s huge black-and-white horse, certainly looking interested in eating Brady’s phone for a snack. For a second there, all Shane sees is nostrils.

“He says hi,” Brady says and then his face is back.

“Hi… back?”

“He doesn’t speak human, sorry.”

“But you speak horse?”

Brady laughs. “For sure.”

“What do they tell you?”

“Um…” Brady looks over his shoulder at a brown horse behind him. “They mostly say that I’m really handsome and charming and also their favorite person. And did I mention that they think I’m very handsome?”

“Interesting. They, uh… they don’t have great eye-sight then?”

“Wow, that one was so mean. You hurt me deeply.”

“Sorry,” Shane says. Honestly, Brady does look pretty good. Not that he ever thinks about that. Brady is totally off-limits. Because he’s a hockey player. And now he’s also a friend, so it’s a double nope.

Brady shakes his head. “Hey, do you like cats?”

“Sure,” Shane says. He’s never been particularly passionate about cats, but he’s not one of those people who feel like you can only like cats or dogs and never both. In any case, cats are not as scary as the horses.

Brady moves to the side to show Shane a cat that is perched on a shelf behind him. “This is Mouse, he lives in the stables.”

Mouse is ginormous. He’s an orange-and-white ball of fluff. “He’s… huge.”

“Yeah and he looks really mean but he actually loves cuddles, don’t you, Mouse?” Brady tilts his head and Mouse bumps his forehead against Brady’s. “He’s a big softy.” He grins. “So, how was fishing?”

“It was…” Shane shrugs, “fishing. I told you, I’m not good at it.”

“Things can be fun even when you’re not good at them,” Brady says.

“Yeah, but also… I don’t want to interact with dead fish. Like, ever.”

Brady laughs. “Okay, I get that. So if you ever hang out with me during the summer I definitely won’t take you fishing.”

“I appreciate it,” Shane mutters. The voices in the house have died down. He has no idea for how long it’s been quiet. The silence – if you ignore the neighbors’ dog and the other neighbors’ lawnmower – doesn’t distract Shane sufficiently, though. “Wait, when are we gonna hang out?”

They never talked about hanging out. Except for when Shane asked if he could pet the dogs when he comes to Ottawa next season. Only Brady won’t be in Ottawa. So maybe Shane will get to pet the dogs when the Hawks are in New York, playing against the Ravens.

“I mean, I just figured it might happen at some point,” Brady says. “We have a big enough place.”

“Oh, yeah, cool,” Shane says. With five kids they probably have a huge house. And they have all those horses. Shane has seen parts of the house and it looks cozy and lived-in and he’d probably feel right at home there.

“If you tell me early enough, I’ll get you one of the nice cabins.”

“Cabins?”

“Yeah, you know how we have a bunch of cabins we rent out?”

“You never mentioned that,” Shane says.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, my sister had this idea with the cabins and we’ve always been offering riding lessons, but now we also have a camp in the summer and they do trail rides with the guests and all sorts of stuff. I’m not really involved in any of that, but I’ve been helping out with the horses, so my sister owes me one. Definitely wouldn’t be an issue to get you a cabin.”

“Nice,” Shane says. He doesn’t know how to explain to Brady that he’d love to come and hang out at some point but that he really doesn’t want to hang out with any of the horses.

And there will be a lot of horses.

Not that it’ll happen this summer, because this summer is slipping away from him so rapidly that it’s scary. It’s an issue for future Shane.

“Maybe next year, eh?” Brady says.

“Sounds great.”

Brady smiles and a dimple makes an appearance. “So… how long are you home for?”

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” Shane says. In all honesty, he’s ready to leave right now, but his mom is cooking him a big goodbye dinner tomorrow, because they won’t see each other for a while. His parents usually take Hannah down to Denver for a game and sometimes Jen tags along too and Shane gets them all tickets, and obviously he’ll swing by when he’s in town for a game, but that won’t be until early January.

Brady is quiet for a moment, like he’s not sure if he should change the topic or ask about Shane’s parents, which was why he called in the first place. Shane is almost glad when Brady doesn’t mention his parents and says, “So you’re getting straight back to work? Back to hitting the gym at six in the morning?”

“Listen, there’s no way I’d ever get up that early unless I absolutely had to,” Shane says.

Brady laughs. “Right, gotta be well-rested to look good in all those workout videos.”

“Hey…”

“You’re just trying to make the rest of us look bad,” Brady says. “But… are you sure two workout videos a day are enough? Like, if you wanna make the rest of us feel inadequate, you might wanna consider posting three.”

“Fuck off,” Shane says. “You’re just jealous.”

“Extremely,” Brady says.

“Hey, Brady, are you coming in for dinner?”

“Yeah, one sec…” Brady gives Mouse’s head a scratch and starts walking. “Well, I gotta go. If you wanna talk more later… just let me know.”

Shane nods. “Yeah, uh… thanks… for, you know… thank you.”

“Anytime,” Brady says.


	8. Chapter 8

The summer is too short.

Shane isn’t complaining, but when he gets back to Denver, when he gets dropped off outside the house he used to share with Conner, when he fits his key into the lock and steps inside and puts down his suitcase, it feels like he was gone for two seconds.

The house looks exactly the way he left it and it’s so empty and quiet that Shane wants to walk right back out. He dumps all his stuff by the door and sighs.

He needs to get groceries and tomorrow he’s getting his new car from a dealership that he has a sponsorship deal with and he’s also swinging by one of the local animal shelters the day after tomorrow. It’s the local charity he picked when he first came here and two years ago the Hawks started doing their animal calendar with them. He has stuff to do. He just doesn’t have stuff to do _today_.Grocery shopping won’t distract him for that long.

He goes out and buys his regular stuff – chicken and pasta and veggies – but he also grabs a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a bottle of wine, because it’s that kind of day. He can tell. He’ll thank himself in a couple of hours. He swings by the Grill on the way home, and when he’s back on his couch, he puts on an old season of Kitchen Nightmares and starts shoving garlic fries into his mouth. He’s going to have to cut back on those once the season starts.

He has his first glass of wine and texts Robbie – _when are u coming back boo_.

Robbie tells him that he’ll be back in four days.

Shane pours himself another glass of wine and texts Connor – _I miss u so much :((_

Connor tells him that he misses him too and that he can’t wait to see him on December 12th. Connor probably didn’t look that up. He just knows these things, because he’s a good friend and he’s really excited to see him again.

Once the second glass of wine is gone and Shane has draped himself all over the couch, he eats some cold garlic fries and contemplates pouring more wine into his mouth straight from the bottle instead of drinking it out of a glass.

Possibly too dramatic.

He grabs his phone and scrolls through Instagram, nearly drops the phone on his face, and pours himself some more wine because today has already gone to shit, so he might as well keep going. Then he texts Brady – _why is wine like that._

_Like what?_

_like everything is bad_ , Shane replies. He quickly adds, _i’m ok ay but wine s not a friendd_.

Maybe he added that too quickly.

 _Did you just get back to Denver and immediately go out drinking?_ Brady asks.

_i’m on me cooch._

_omfg you’re hilarious_ , is Brady’s reply.

Shane doesn’t feel hilarious. He feels fucking sad. He wants to cry. And he really needs a hug and there’s no one around to hug him and that’s just his life now, it’s just him, and he’s all by himself and he will be all by himself forever. He grabs a pillow and hugs it to his chest and it’s not enough.

His phone chimes. Another text from Brady. _Drink some water okay?_

 _water is too far awayyyy_ , Shane says.

 _You’re gonna feel so bad tomorrow morning_.

Shane replies, _already feel bad._

Brady sends him a sad face. _Do you want dog pics?_

_can u jsut send a dog??_

_I don’t know if they’d like that_ , Brady says. He attaches three pictures of Chewie and Penny, one of which he might have taken just now. It’s Chewie lying on top of Brady like a big fluffy blanket.

Brady’s already in New York, in a small apartment he’s renting for the season. He probably won’t stay. His contract is up at the end of the season and it didn’t sound like Brady was too excited about playing for the Ravens. Which is understandable, because the Ravens are a fucking shitshow.

Brady sends him another text, which turns out to be a video. It’s still Chewie lying down on Brady and Brady is talking very quietly, “Say hi to Shane, Chewie, say hi.” Chewie is looking at the camera, totally unimpressed. Then Penny pushes into the frame from next to the couch, her tail wagging like Brady promised her a treat. “Oh, that’s the best girl, hey, Penny, say hi to Shane.”

Penny makes a quiet _whuff_ sound and then the video goes dark, but Shane can hear Brady laugh before it cuts off. _Penny said no more photos, just head scratches_.

 _its what she desrvsere_ , Shane says, and then, _fuck what even happend there_.

 _Wine_ , says Brady.

Shane groans and decides to take a nap.

Shane has never been this excited for his doorbell to ring. Robbie is finally back in town and they’re gonna hang out all day and tomorrow they’re invited for brunch at Orlie’s house and they’re gonna be going back to the rink for informal skates before the preseason starts.

Some of the guys aren’t back yet, but they’ll all start trickling in soon enough. They’ve had some new additions, too – the Hawks lost some guys in free agency and eventually ended up making some moves. It’s not a huge change, but Shane has to admit that he’s a little nervous about having Stephen Gunn on the team. He’s… an ass. On the ice, at least. Maybe it’ll be different when they’re on the same team, but Shane still remembers that time Gunn slammed him into the boards and then cross-checked him in the head during his rookie season. Gunn got suspended for it and Shane was out for weeks with a concussion. Afterwards he always did his best to stay out of Gunn’s way.

They also got Michael Fuchs, which Shane is definitely more excited about. Tampa Bay traded him, likely for cap reasons, and their fans were really upset about it, but Shane’s excited because Fuchs will likely end up on a line with him and he thinks they might click well.

But Shane is really most excited about Robbie being back. He yanks the door open for him two seconds after he’s rung the doorbell.

Robbie laughs and holds up a box. “You got a package.”

Shane frowns at the package. “I didn’t order– Oh. Wait.”

The day after Shane drunk-texted everyone he knows, Brady told him that he’d sent him something. Shane completely forgot about it, probably because he was still hungover and half-asleep when he read that text.

“Did you get drunk and order a bunch of shit?” Robbie says as he wanders into the house, the package still in hand. “Because I’ve totally done that. You know that beanbag chair I have in the basement? I bought that when I was drunk.”

“No, a friend of mine sent me something,” Shane says.

“My brother once sent me a giant dildo during my rookie season. I was living with one of our As at the time and I guess I was really fucking lucky that I opened the package in my room.”

Shane is pretty sure that Brady wouldn’t send him a giant dildo. In any case, he’s too curious about what’s in the package, so if it’s embarrassing, he’ll just have to hope that Robbie is a good enough friend to forget about it quickly.

He grabs his scissors and opens up the box and digs up… a stuffed Golden Retriever. It’s from IKEA and it’s huge and soft and Shane is definitely too old to get excited about a stuffed animal, but this is probably one of the best things anyone’s ever given to him.

“Wow,” Robbie says, “why don’t I have friends who send me cool IKEA shit?”

Shane makes a mental note to send Robbie something ridiculous from IKEA. Maybe a spatula. “I love him.”

“You can practice for when your parents allow you to have a real dog,” Robbie says.

“Fuck off,” Shane grumbles.

While Robbie goes digging through Shane’s fridge, Shane grabs his phone and quickly takes a selfie with the stuffed dog to send to Brady – _you actually sent me a dog!!!_

Brady doesn’t reply until later, when Shane and Robbie have had a couple of beers, have ordered pizza and are yelling at each other while playing Mario Kart.

 _Chewie and Penny didn’t wanna hop in a box so I thought this was the next best thing_ , Brady says.

 _i love him so muuuuch_ , Shane replies.

_I’m glad you do. Don’t forget to cuddle him a lot._

“Hey, Wilder, anything you wanna tell me?”

Shane looks up. “Huh?”

“You’re grinning at your phone, like… is there someone?” Robbie asks, waggling his eyebrows. “I’m just saying… that’s probably what I look like when I text Ella.”

“No, dude, come on.”

“What?”

“You know that I can’t…” Shane shrugs. “It’s… whatever.”

“Shaney, babe, I just want you to be happy, you know that,” Robbie says, gives up on picking the next race and drops his controller to wrap his arms around Shane.

Shane hugs him back. He needed that hug. A lot. And he’s so stupidly grateful that Robbie still hugs him like he did before Shane told him he’s gay. You just never fucking know and it’s exhausting. He should probably pull away, but Robbie is still hugging him tightly, and Shane won’t say no to that.

“Here,” Robbie says and pulls the stuffed dog off the back of the couch. “Give your new bro a hug, too.”

Shane laughs. He sort of wants to cry, though.

When Robbie leaves, just after midnight, Shane lies down on the couch with his Golden Retriever and hugs him to his chest.

Sometimes he wishes he’d picked something else. Not hockey. Something where no one cares what he does when he goes home and who he falls in love with. The thing is, hockey was his first love, so even if he could go back and change his mind, he’d never actually do it.

Shane falls a little bit in love with Michael Fuchs the first time he meets him. But, like, a friend kind of love. He literally has a friend crush.

He’s not the only one, though. Everyone has a friend crush on Michael Fuchs.

When Shane first goes to the rink for an informal skate, about half of last season’s team is there and, much to Shane’s annoyance, so is Stephen Gunn. Shane mumbles a vague hello in his direction and Gunner sort of does a nod-grunt back at him. Shane quickly ducks out of the way to get to his stall and walks face-first into somebody’s chest.

“Oh, hey, hello, nice to meet you,” says whoever that chest belongs to with a barely-there accent that Shane can’t place.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Shane says and takes a quick step back. He looks up at the broadly grinning face of Michael Fuchs.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Michael.”

Shane shakes his hand, still a little dazed. “Shane.”

Michael keeps grinning at him like this isn’t an absolutely horrifying way to meet. He points at the stall next to Shane’s. “Guess I’m your new neighbor.”

“Nice,” Shane says, glancing up at the name plate so he doesn’t have to look at Michael Fuchs anymore. Because Michael Fuchs is tall and he has impeccable eyebrows and his grin is sort of infectious and Shane doesn’t know what to do with that. “Welcome to Denver.”

“Thank you, it’s very nice. Robbie said I live very close to you.”

“Oh, cool, I can show you around sometime if you want. Or, like, if you need anything… let me know.”

“Yes, but I don’t think you can help me,” Michael says.

“No?”

“I want good bread, but America… has never heard of good bread.”

Shane laughs and Michael laughs with him and Shane has never been so happy to have someone on his team. It’s like it doesn’t even matter that Shane just made a complete idiot of himself.

Michael follows him out onto the ice, talking about his summer in Germany and it sounds amazing. “I’ll show you a picture of my cow later,” he says as they skate around the rink together. “Her name is Resi. She lives on my uncle’s farm.”

Michael Fuchs owns a cow that lives on a farm in Bavaria and he talks about her like she’s a person. Shane seriously loves this guy.

“Hey, Foxie,” Oreo shouts and barrels into them from behind. “And Wilder. You two are besties already, huh?”

“Yes,” Michael says.

Shane is weirdly pleased by that very simple _yes_.

“Have you given the speech yet?” Oreo asks.

“What speech?” Shane asks.

“So, Foxie here has the most interesting last name and the pronunciation is, well…”

“It’s not pronounced _fucks_ ,” Michael says with the face of someone who’s had to explain this a billion times in his life and just wants to stop.

“How is it pronounced?”

“Fuchs,” Michael says.

Shane can sort of hear the difference, but he’s not sure if he can actually make those sounds with his mouth.

He’s probably gaping a little.

Michael laughs. “Just call me Foxie. Fuchs is fox in German.”

“I’ll learn how to say it, I swear,” Shane says. He doesn’t want to be one of those dicks who can’t even be assed to try.

Michael throws an arm around him. “My new best friend.” He proceeds to give Shane a noogie on top of his bucket.

“You’re gonna have to pass Wilder’s best friend test first,” Oreo says.

“There’s a test?”

Oreo nods. “He’s gonna take you to the Grill and if you hate it, he’s probably gonna ask the team to trade you.”

“I take the Grill very seriously,” Shane says.

“He doesn’t cook, he doesn’t even have a house, he just lives at the Grill.”

“We should go,” Michael says. “Today, if you want?”

“Yeah, totally,” Shane says.

“Aw, and maybe after you can go get married,” Oreo coos and skates away to bug Orlie.

Michael elbows Shane in the side. “Hey, I don’t put out on the first date, just so you know.”

Shane shakes his head. “I’m a gentleman, I wasn’t expecting you to. But I will pay for lunch.” Shane hopes that his face isn’t several shades of red. “Because you’re new.”

Michael laughs. “Thank you.”

Shane is suddenly a lot more excited for the new season than he was this morning.


	9. Chapter 9

The regular season starts with three goals for Shane and three losses for the Hawks.

Shane can’t even be happy about the goals because the mood in the locker room is terrible, the media questions whether or not they’re the same Hawks that won the Cup last season, and Luke is clearly beating himself up because they lost three in a row. The boys try to cheer him up, but walking into the room, you can tell that no one’s in high spirits.

It’s like they raised their banner and everything went to shit immediately after.

The practice after their third loss is a rough one. They’re all trying hard and there are fans in the stands, cheering for every goal they score during their scrimmage at the end of practice, but it’s not enough to put a smile on anyone’s face. Shane sticks around longer with a bunch of the guys to do some extra work and Robbie goes and signs some jerseys for fans.

Shane doesn’t have that in him today. He wants to lie the fuck down. Instead he looks at the guys who are collecting pucks with him and says, “You guys should come over after practice.”

They throw themselves a pity party with pizza, Oreo brings cupcakes, and Michael brings some weird-ass Bavarian potato spread that Robbie ends up eating straight out of the bowl without any bread. Luke shows up with a fuckton of rum and several very large bottles of Coke. They’re drunk before their pizza even gets delivered. Michael is on the couch, hugging the stuffed Golden Retriever that Shane got from Brady, trying to find a name for him with Luke, the two of them throwing increasingly strange German and Swedish names at each other. Robbie is upside down on an armchair, typing on his phone.

Oreo is on the floor, groaning when he bites into his first slice of pizza. “Can food be better than sex?”

“Yes,” Michael says with conviction.

Robbie cackles. “No girlfriend, Foxie?”

“I had one. Not anymore.”

“Didn’t wanna move with you?”

“Oh, no, it was…” Michael shrugs, waves it off. “Why is American pizza so greasy?”

“Foxie, you need to stop shitting on American culture,” Oreo says. “Grease is part of that. Have you ever had really good bacon? That’s America.”

“I miss bread.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I want a Döner.”

“There, there,” Lukas says and gently pats Michael’s head.

“Half of the time I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Foxie.”

“Hey, can I look at pictures of your cow?”

“I love your cow,” Shane says. He wonders what it’s like to pet a cow. It’s probably weird. Like a horse. Except cows are not as scary as horses. Michael’s cow looks really sweet in the pictures. Like a friend.

 _have u ever met a cow?_ he texts Brady.

_Are you drunk?_

_not the point. have u?_

_Yeah, I have._

_are they soft_ , Shane asks.

 _Not as soft as Chewie and Penny_ , is Brady’s reply.

After that, the stuffed Golden Retriever hits him in the face and Shane drops his phone. Luke is currently campaigning to call him Köttbullar.

“Why are you so obsessed with naming him after food?” Oreo asks. “There’s other weird names, like… Tractor.”

“We’re not calling him Tractor, what the fuck is wrong with you,” Luke says.

“My girlfriend’s first dog was called Broom.”

Luke shakes his head. “What the _fuck_.”

“I miss my girlfriend,” Robbie mumbles.

Michael frowns. “Where is she?”

“Yale.”

“That’s far,” Luke says.

“Where’s Yale?” Oreo asks.

“Oh my _God_.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s up your ass.”

“Fuck off.”

A pizza crust sails past Shane’s face and bounces off Luke’s forehead, into Robbie’s lap.

“I hate all of you,” Shane mumbles.

“No, babe, you love us.” Robbie reaches out to hug him. “We’re the best teammates you’ve ever had. Admit it.”

“Yes, admit it,” Oreo says and joins the hug from the other side.

“Get off me, all of you,” Shane grumbles. He’s most certainly a hugger, but not when he’s having pizza rubbed against his cheek at the same time.

“Only if you admit that you love us.”

“Fine, whatever, I love all of you dumb fucks, now move.”

They do move and Shane ends up with pizza sauce smeared all over his shirt, but it doesn’t matter, because he really loves those dumb fucks a whole lot. Even Oreo, who’s the worst of them all.

Michael laughs at them, has another drink, eats another slice of pizza, has _another_ drink, and then falls asleep, still sitting on the floor, head tilted back against the couch.

Oreo tries to stick pizza crust up his nose and he wakes up again, smacking Luke in the face in the process.

“You’re all mean,” Michael mumbles.

“Noooo,” Oreo says and hugs Michael, huge, ripped, Michael, against his chest like he’s a little kid. “I love you. And your cow. You’re my favorite winger. Who even is that Shane Wilds guy?”

“Maybe you can replace me with the cow,” Shane says.

Oreo cackles. “Would be a big improvement.”

Shane looks at Luke. “This is how they treat their friend who invited them into his home and bought them pizza.”

“Ungrateful,” Luke says.

“For real.”

Oreo blows him a kiss. Shane flips him off in return.

The Golden Retriever hits him in the face again a few seconds later.

At the end of the night, he has five names, none of which Shane remembers when he wakes up with a pounding headache the next morning.

The first two months of the season fly by.

The Hawks finally get back into their rhythm, although, if you ask Shane, Stephen Gunn is definitely not contributing to the good atmosphere in the locker room. He’s loud and annoying, and a sexist douchebag on top of that.

When they go out on the road, Gunner is always the first one to loudly brag about the girls he’s been hooking up with, which is… whatever, honestly, if he wants to overshare, he can go right ahead, it’s not like Shane has to listen to it, but it still rubs him the wrong way when Gunner talks about girls like they’re things and not people.

What really gets Shane riled up, though, is when Gunner pulls him into the conversation.

They’re in Philadelphia, first stop on the roadie that’ll take them to New York for games against the Ravens and Mariners – they’ll come back to play against the Knights later in the season – and afterwards to Hartford and Boston. Most of the guys decided to go out for drinks and Shane is squeezed into a booth with Michael, Robbie, Pad, Luke and Gunner. He’s not sure why Gunner decided to sit with them. He doesn’t usually hang out with them. Maybe Jam told him to fuck off; he’s over by the bar, his hand on a girl’s ass. Probably doesn’t need Gunner in the mix.

Shane is barely even paying attention to what Gunner is saying, because he’s busy texting Brady under the table. He probably should have made plans with him earlier, but there was so much shit going on in Denver – Robbie was out for a couple of games and they gave Shane an A while he was gone and then there was this whole drama with the owners, some secret shit-talk from the beginning of the season when they kept losing games being dragged out into the open and… maybe he didn’t text Brady as much as he used to.

It was self-preservation.

Because when Brady sent him that Golden Retriever, Shane could see them coming. From miles and miles away. The feelings. The feelings that he absolutely did not want. So he had to take a step back and he hung out with the boys and everything was fine.

Still, now he’s going to New York and he couldn’t just ditch Brady because he can’t fucking keep it together around a guy who was just trying to be nice to him. That would make him a shitty friend. So he’s texting Brady under the table, trying to match up their schedules for when the Hawks have a day off in New York – a rare pleasure. The Ravens still have practice that day, but they can hang out in the afternoon. It’s a bit ridiculous how excited Shane is that he’ll get to meet the dogs.

He’s halfway through writing a text about exactly that when he hears Gunner say, “Anyway, if there’s anyone here who needs to get laid, it’s Wilder.”

Shane looks up. “What?”

“I’m just saying, man, you clearly need it.” Gunner winks at him. “Need a wingman? I’ll help you out.”

“I’m good,” Shane mutters. He can go on without listening to Gunner go on and on about what a ladies man he is.

“Aw, come on. I haven’t seen you with a girl all season.”

Shane doesn’t like the way Michael perks up. He doesn’t like the way his stomach does an unpleasant flip. He tries to shrug it off and takes a sip of his beer, mostly because he needs something to hold on to.

“Not everyone likes to stick their dick into everything that moves,” Michael says, gives Gunner a pointed look and then slides out of the booth and ambles away towards the bathroom.

“Guess he needs to get laid, too,” Gunner mumbles and then finally leaves them alone and heads over to the bar.

Shane huffs angrily and firmly keeps his eyes on his phone, because he doesn’t want to see if the other guys are exchanging knowing looks. Sometimes he thinks he’s perfectly safe, that no one’s ever going to find out, because no one actually gives a shit about his private life, but when a guy like Gunner shows up and announces to the world that he has, in fact, been paying attention to what Shane’s been getting up to – or what he hasn’t been getting up to – he realizes that he isn’t safe at all. Maybe some of the guys have put two and two together already.

Shane is suddenly having a pretty horrible time at this bar. His face is hot and he feels weirdly shaky, even though he’s only had one beer.

“Hey, I’m fucking wiped,” Robbie says, “I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel.”

Shane barely hears him, only looking up when Robbie gives him a nudge.

“You coming or do you wanna have another beer?”

“No, I’ll come,” Shane says, belatedly realizing that Robbie is coming to his rescue.

Shane slides out of the booth and Robbie follows him, out into a clear December night. He lets out a puff of breath and it clouds in the cold air. It doesn’t make him feel any better and he honestly can’t wait to curl up in bed and pass the fuck out.

They head down the street, towards the team hotel, Robbie silent until they’re halfway there. He reaches out to tug on Shane’s sleeve. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“I just… you know, you looked like you were about to have a panic attack, so I thought…”

“Yeah, no, I…” Shane stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I don’t know, I just…”

“Gunner’s a dick,” Robbie mutters.

“Yeah.”

“He wasn’t saying it because he thinks you’re…” Robbie looks over his shoulder. “He’s probably just one of those guys… you know. He thinks he’s, like… God’s gift to women. He was just trying to show off, because he’s such a ladies man and you’re not or whatever.”

Shane hums. Robbie’s probably right, but he still can’t shake that feeling of absolute panic in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey,” Robbie says and puts an arm around him. “It’s all good.”

Shane doesn’t feel good, though.

He thinks about Michael, the way he looked up, eyes boring into Shane, when Gunner started running his mouth. Maybe Shane will just have to avoid Michael for the rest of his life. It’s not gonna be easy, considering that they’re playing on the same line, but Shane honestly has no idea how to face him and see if Michael is looking at him differently.

Robbie ruffles his hair. It should make Shane feel better to know that he’ll always have Robbie on his side.

He still doesn’t sleep well that night.

Michael catches him alone after their morning skate at the Foxes’ arena the next day.

Shane tried so hard to avoid him. He kept fiddling with his bag in the locker room and waited until Michael left, most of the guys already on their way to the bus. He thought he was all good. Until he walks out of the room and finds Michael waiting for him in the hallway.

“Oh, hey,” Shane says and pulls his phone out of his pocket to pretend that he’s really super busy and can’t possibly talk to Michael right now.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Michael says, his voice low. “You seemed upset yesterday and then you and Robbie kinda disappeared. And I don’t want to… It’s none of my business, but you left quickly and I wanted to ask… you know…”

“Oh,” Shane says. “No. I’m fine.”

“Good. Okay. Gunner can be…” Michael shrugs. “Well, you know how he can be.”

“Yeah.”

Michael nods and they walk onwards in silence until he suddenly stops and says, “He shouldn’t have said that.”

“He was just… being an ass.”

“Yes, I know,” Michael says. “I had a teammate like him. He always… He was always all up in other people’s business. I didn’t like it. Nobody wanted him in their business but he never shut up.”

Shane laughs. Mostly because he’s so relieved that Michael didn’t put him on the spot and he doesn’t have to find a way to talk himself out of this. “Yeah, sounds familiar.”

“I just want to play hockey, you know?” Michael says. “I don’t care about…” He waves his hands helplessly. “I don’t know how to say it. I don’t want any problems.”

“I feel ya,” Shane says. He’d rather just play hockey without any of the extra drama as well.

But there’s always some sort of drama. He knows that. Sometimes it’s a sad kind of drama, when guys get injured or when someone gets sick. But he knows the kind of problems Michael is talking about. It’s when rumors get spread and when guys don’t get along and when they talk shit about each other and people’s feelings get hurt. It fucks up the entire locker room, even when half of the team isn’t even involved.

Guys like Gunner love stirring up shit and they get too interested in other people’s private lives and don’t know how to mind their own business. They like to find people’s vulnerable spots and they poke and prod at them, just to provoke a reaction. Shane’s pretty sure that this wasn’t the only that he had to deal with Gunner’s bullshit.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Michael says.

“I won’t,” Shane mutters, although Gunner definitely did get to him. And Michael knows that.

“It’s all crap anyway. What he said…” Michael trails off. “Anyway, I got a little mad, just because… I know guys like him. It annoyed me.”

“Hard same, man,” Shane says. They’re almost out of the arena, so it’s probably time to shut up. The last thing he wants is to start shit with a teammate. With Gunner, the smartest thing still is to stay out of his way altogether. He gives Michael a nudge. “Thanks… you know, for…”

“Sure,” Michael says and gives him a pat on the back.


	10. Chapter 10

He meets Brady at Central Park, bundled into a coat, scarf wrapped around his neck, hat on his head. He also brought gloves, just in case. He should be okay with the cold, he’s a hockey player. He grew up in Minnesota. He’s half Canadian. He should _love_ the cold.

He really, really doesn’t.

He finds Brady quickly, exactly where he said he would be, his instructions so detailed that Shane wouldn’t have managed to get lost if he’d tried. Brady is waiting for him on a bench, holding two leashes in one hand, waving at Shane with the other. He gets up and meets him at the bottom of the stairs that Shane was coming down.

“Hey,” Brady says and gives him a quick one-armed hug.

“Hi,” Shane says, gives Brady a pat on the back in return and then bends down to the dogs, lets them sniff his hand, and Penny immediately starts licking it. “Hey, you.” Chewie crowds against him as well. “And you as well. Hello, hello…” He tries to pet them both at them same time and they’re so excited, but he’s probably still more excited than them. “You’re so good and so soft. And I knew you were gonna be so good and so soft, but wow…”

Brady laughs.

“Sorry,” Shane says and stands up straight again. He’s mostly here to see Brady. Honestly. The dogs are just a very exciting bonus. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” Brady says.

“How’s your… lower body injury?”

Brady laughs. “All good. What about you? Ready to continue that losing streak?”

“Wow, you’re a dick,” Shane says. “I’ll accept a dog as an apology.”

They’ve lost their last three games and Shane is frustrated as hell, because he hasn’t scored a goal in two weeks. Plenty of assists, but that’s not good enough for him. It’s definitely not good enough for their coach.

“Here,” Brady says and holds up the leashes, “which one do you want?”

“I’ll take both,” Shane says and takes both leashes from him. Penny and Chewie clearly don’t care who’s leading them about the park. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Wherever you want,” Brady says.

“This is a big park, I’m gonna get all four of us lost.”

Brady laughs and tugs him onwards, down a path to fuck-knows-where. Shane is happy to follow him, the dogs both padding along, and Shane has to keep himself from stopping every few feet to pet them.

“How do you not pet them all the time?”

“It takes a lot of strength,” Brady says.

Shane laughs. Then he doesn’t know what to say. They used to talk so much, during the summer in particular, and Shane always found something to say. They know so much about each other, there must be something he can ask about that’s not just the typical hockey talk. You only talk about hockey with guys you barely know. “So, uh,” Shane says, “how’s your horse? Do they send you updates?”

“Yeah, they do, they take good care of him while I’m gone. My sister has this program for kids who can’t afford riding lessons and she uses Monty for those, too.”

“That’s cool,” Shane says. “So, at your ranch, you do riding lessons and then you also have cabins?”

“Yeah, well, my sister doesn’t do everything by herself, that’d be way too much for one person, but… she keeps coming up with really cool stuff to help the community. It’s cool. I was never… You know, I learned how to ride and all that, but at some point hockey just took over and it was always more important and it was the same with my brothers and my other sister. I’m glad at least one of us stuck with the ranch, so someone could take over from our parents.”

“So your sister runs it all by herself?”

“She’s the owner now, but our parents still help out and so does her husband. It’s a lot of work.” Brady nudges his arm. “You should come by next summer, seriously, it’s beautiful out there.”

“Yeah, it sounds really cool.”

Despite the scary horses.

Brady smiles.

Shane nods and and looks down at the dogs. They’re approaching rapidly. The feelings. The ones he saw coming when Brady sent him that Golden Retriever toy.

Brady is just so… nice. And he’s cute and it’s not just the smile, it’s also the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles and the way his curls fall into his eyes. Shane needs to, like punch himself in the face so he’ll snap out of it. Brady is extremely off-limits.

“How’s New York treating you?” Shane asks. He looks straight ahead. He looks down at the dogs. They’re good dogs. Fluffy. Soft. No need to look at Brady at all.

“I like the guys,” Brady says. “They’ve had a couple of rough years with all the coaching changes and shit, but I think Coach Greenway is really turning things around, you know?”

“Cool. I’ve heard good things about Elliot Cowell.”

“I love him,” Brady says, all serious. “He’s the best and he helped me so much when I got here. Honestly, everyone loves him.”

Shane nods. It’s good to have a captain who cares. Not that Orlie doesn’t care, but a lot of the new kids who come in are a little bit intimidated by him, so they mostly flock to their As. Pad and Robbie are the ones who play rookie parents. But Elliot Cowell, he’s the kind of guy who makes sure that his opponents are okay when they slip and who actually apologizes when he feels like he was in the wrong. “I’m glad you like it,” Shane says.

“Yeah…”

“But?”

“I’m just pretty sure that I’m not their first priority to re-sign in the offseason, so I’ll probably end up signing somewhere else in free agency.”

Shane hums. It must be rough, moving around so much. He doesn’t really feel like he’s allowed to ask. Not directly. So he nods at the dogs and says, “Do they hate it when they have to move?”

“No, they’re fine. I just… It’s always a road trip, you know? And they love it and I don’t mind so much, just as long as I can take them. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to bring them here.”

“Aw,” Shane says. The thought alone makes him sad and they’re not even his dogs.

“I was really fucking lucky with the apartment I found here, this place is expensive as hell and we play in the middle of the city, but our practice rink is sort of… further out. Which is another reason I’m not super keen on sticking around.”

“I mean, there’s a ton of other teams,” Shane says.

Brady hums. “I guess… I sort of wish I could stay in one place just a little while longer.”

“Maybe, if you end up signing with another team in free agency, they’ll sign you for more than a year?”

“Yeah, but I also had another year left on my contract with Ottawa and they traded me. There’s just no guarantees.”

“I’m sorry, that sucks,” Shane says. It must be hard, and maybe it’s even harder for Brady because he has those two brothers in the NHL, one of which is pretty successful and has been playing for the Foxes for nearly his entire career. Then again, Brady’s the only Rosenberg with a Cup ring.

“No, it’s okay,” Brady says with a grin. “I’m just happy that I get to do this.”

They walk through the park for a while, go past the ice rink and watch for a little while, until Shane’s fingers are starting to freeze and he hands the leashes to Brady to put on his gloves.

“Hey, we can head back to my place if you want,” Brady says. “I have hot chocolate. And coffee. No tea, because I hate tea. I bought cookies, though, and… I don’t know what your plans are this evening, but I can make dinner if you want. I mean, I’m gonna make dinner anyway, so I can just make a little more.”

Shane should definitely say no to that. Because of the feelings.

“Yeah, thanks,” Shane says.

They head back to Brady’s apartment on the Upper West Side. It’s small, but Brady clearly didn’t bring too much stuff with him in the first place.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess,” Brady says when he opens the door for Shane. He takes the leashes off of Penny and Chewie and they both scamper away. “A lot of the guys don’t even live in the city, but I figured… it’s probably just for a year, so I might as well go for it.”

Brady’s apartment really isn’t that messy. Except for the dog toys. Those are all over the place.

“I guess I’ll just get started on dinner. What do you wanna eat?” Brady asks after they’ve hung up their coats. He ushers Shane into the kitchen, closing a baby gate behind them so the dogs won’t follow them. “I’ve got steak and chicken. Pasta. Some veggies. What do you feel like having?”

“Uh… chicken is good.”

Brady nods and sticks his head into the fridge and starts pulling out food. “What kinda veggies do you like?”

“Just don’t make me eat zucchini,” Shane says. “I hate vegetables in general, but it’s a big no to zucchini. And eggplant. Those are gross, too.”

Brady laughs. “You hate vegetables?”

“I mean, I eat them. Because I have to. But I don’t enjoy eating them, you know what I’m saying?”

“Okay,” Brady says and pulls even more food out of the fridge. “I got you. I’ll make something. No zucchini.”

“I can help,” Shane says, but it comes out like a question, because he honestly doesn’t cook a lot and whenever he does and there’s someone else around, he starts feeling like he’s doing it wrong somehow.

Brady puts some carrots and peppers and onions on the counter. “Here, you wanna chop these?”

“Sure,” Shane says and grabs the carrots. And the peppers. Not the onions.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing, you want me to be the one who has to cry. I guess it’s only fair, since you’re my guest and you’re not supposed to make your guests cry.”

Shane laughs. “I just don’t know how to cut them.”

“You… don’t?”

Shane ducks his head. He’s a fucking disaster. He knows that. “Listen, I–”

“No, hey, I can do the onions, don’t worry,” Brady says. He leans closer and grins and, yep, there they are. Feelings. “Or I could show you how to cut them, it’s not hard.”

Shane tells him to show him. The thing is, Brady cuts the first third of the onion in about two seconds and it takes Shane about five hours to cut the rest of it. Brady doesn’t seem to mind that he has to cut the rest of the veggies because Shane is trying not to cut off his fingers. Brady entrusted him with a really big knife. Honestly, it’s huge. Shane has a knife like that in Denver and he never uses it because he’s scared of it.

He does eventually manage to cut the onion. And he’s crying a little. But Brady is also crying a little because he’s right next to him.

“I was cutting onions last summer and my niece didn’t believe me that the onions were making me cry and she was super worried, so she kept bringing me presents while I was making dinner and she gave me half of her dessert to make sure I was okay.”

“That’s so cute.”

“She’s a really sweet kid,” Brady says. “I love her. Even though she made me watch _Brave_ like twenty times in the summer.”

“ _Brave_ is a good movie,” Shane says.

“It liked it the first five times. After that I was literally begging her to put on _Frozen_ instead.”

“That’s valid.”

“Glad to have your support,” Brady says and starts throwing together a stir-fry with chicken. He tosses in spices and sauces and he doesn’t have a recipe or anything, he just grabs a fork and tries it, throws the fork in the sink and adds some more salt.

He’s a wizard in the kitchen.

While their stir-fry is frying, Brady grabs them plates and glasses and sets it all up and Shane is being absolutely useless. He basically contributed nothing. Except for a little bit of onion. Brady didn’t even end up using all of it.

“Thanks for making dinner,” Shane says once he’s done shoveling his second helping into his mouth.

Penny and Chewie are watching them, both of them looking extremely sad, even though Brady gave them food so they wouldn’t bug them. They were done with their dinner a lot faster than Shane and Brady, though, and they’re still looking really hungry.

Shane tries to do the dishes after so he’ll at least help a little bit, but Brady ends up shooing him out of the kitchen with two treats for Chewie and Penny.

He ends up on the floor with the dogs, going back and forth between them, asking them to shake his hand. They seem to never get tired of it. Brady is sitting on the floor with him, the dogs between them, giving Penny a bellyrub while Shane pets Chewie’s ears. Which are really soft.

“This is the best day ever,” Shane says.

“Feel free to come by anytime,” Brady replies. He’s looking down at Penny when he says, “I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to hang out.”

Shane presses his lips together. “Yeah, sorry, I kinda… got in touch about that pretty late.”

“It’s fine,” Brady says. “I was just wondering if I’d, like… pissed you off or something.”

“Please, you could never,” Shane says. “I’m just a mess… you know, personally.” Which is not really an excuse for being a shitty friend, but he doesn’t know how to say this without making things super weird and serious.

“It’s okay,” Brady says. “All good in Denver? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, it’s more like… a bunch of little things, you know? Like, my parents are having issues and my little sister is really upset about it and there was some shit going on with the team…”

Brady nods. He probably heard about that. Everyone heard about it.

As far as Shane is concerned, their owners overreacted a bit. They just lost a couple of games and they got back into their groove soon enough. Not that any of the players were ever supposed to hear about what the owners were saying, it all happened behind closed doors and some insider broke the news.

“Also,” Shane mumbles, “Gunner is a dick.”

Brady bursts out laughing. “Fuck, he totally is.”

“You know him?”

“We’ve crossed paths.”

Shane raises his eyebrows at him, because there’s definitely a story there.

“When I was in San Diego, Gunner broke my liney’s collarbone and I broke Gunner’s nose like ten minutes later,” Brady says. “We don’t really like each other very much. Wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to start shit tomorrow.”

“Don’t get hurt,” Shane says. Brady is tall, but he’s not exactly huge, so Gunner could probably flatten him like a pancake.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I’m not looking for a fight or anything. Literally, when I punched him in the face, it was my first fight. And I never got into another one after, wasn’t really my thing.”

Shane smirks. Fighting isn’t his thing either. He’s usually one of the smallest guys on the ice and he, too, gets flattened like a pancake on occasion when big guys check him into the boards.

Brady is smirking back at him and Shane has to look away, because he just can’t deal with it. With the way Brady is smiling and the way his eyes are so warm and with the way he’s cooing very softly at his dogs every few minutes. It’s ridiculous. Not a single person in the world should be allowed to be this cute.

Shane clears his throat. “I should probably head back to the hotel at some point,” he says. Their curfew is midnight, so he has time, but he also doesn’t want to overstay his welcome. Brady probably has to get up early for the Ravens’ morning skate tomorrow as well.

“Oh, sure,” Brady says. “Want me to get you an Uber?”

“I can get one, no worries,” Shane says. “I’ll order one downstairs.”

“I’ll come down with you,” Brady says. “I gotta take the dogs out again anyway.”

Shane says goodbye to Chewie and Penny for about ten minutes and they follow them to the door and Brady puts their leashes back on.

They wait with him until the Uber arrives and he catches Brady checking if the license plate number on Shane’s phone matches the one on the car that pulls up. That only makes the feelings worse.

“See you tomorrow,” Brady says and gives him a hug.

Shane hugs him back tightly and gives each dog a quick pat before he hops into his Uber. When the car pulls away, he sees Brady talking to the dogs.

It’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his life.


	11. Chapter 11

They lose the game against the Ravens. Elliot Cowell scores a hatty and all the Hawks can do is wait for the shower of hats to end and keep on playing, but their best effort isn’t good enough. Brady texts him after the game, a sad face and good luck for the Hawks’ game against the Mariners the next day.

They also lose in Brooklyn. No hatty on the opposing team this time, but they lose 7-2 and that’s even worse than the 4-1 loss against the Ravens.

Thankfully they’re off to Connecticut next. Which means he’ll finally see Connor tomorrow. It’s been ages. Connor’s picking him up at the team hotel this time so Shane doesn’t have to take an Uber and that way they can talk in the car, too, so he gets extra Connor time. Connor offered to take him somewhere for dinner in Hartford so they didn’t have to drive out to Cedar Mills, but Shane prefers going to Connor’s. He doesn’t want to spend the entire time worrying that someone might be listening in on their conversation.

“Do you want to go have dinner tonight?” Michael asks him after practice.

“Nah, I’m seeing a friend.”

“Another friend?”

They both ditched Robbie in New York, because Michael was meeting one of his friends from the German national team who plays for the Ravens and Shane was off hanging out with Brady. “Yeah, you know Connor Walden? We used to live together and he’s here now, so I’m gonna hang out with him.”

“Oh, have fun,” Michael says. He looks… sad. Shane doesn’t like it.

“Let’s do dinner in Boston, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael replies and holds up his fist. He’s a big fist bump kinda guy and grins broadly when Shane complies.

“You having dinner with Waldo?” Robbie asks. He must have snuck up on them.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe he never invites _me_ for dinner.”

Shane ducks his head, because that’s sort of his fault.

Robbie grabs him by the shoulders and squeezes. “Hey, no, I get it, you guys need your best friend time. Tell him I said hi, okay? And also that I’m inviting him for dinner when he’s in Denver, because one of us has manners.”

Shane snorts. “Sure.”

They go back to the hotel and he has about an hour to take a nap before Connor comes by to pick him up. Connor has the day off because he came back from a ten-day roadie last night and he’s waving at Shane from the car when he pulls up outside the hotel the Hawks are staying at.

“Hey, man,” Shane says when he gets into the car. “Did you get to sleep in?”

“Nah, I spent the morning with Nessie and took her out for lunch and now it’s Shane time,” Connor says as he pulls away from the curb. “You have anything in mind for dinner? It’s probably too early to pick something up on the way, but we can order food. There’s some nice places in Cedar Mills.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Shane says. “Robbie was being a shit because you didn’t invite him for dinner.”

Connor snorts. “Aw, come on. He knows that I love him.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t being serious, but he’s probably gonna invite you for dinner when you’re in Denver,” Shane says. “You know, to make a point.”

“Well, tell him he’s gonna have to take me to the Grill, I won’t accept anything else.”

“He keeps chirping me about the Grill.”

“Yeah, because you probably go every day.”

“Hey…”

He doesn’t go _every_ day.

“It’s the truth and we both know it,” Connor says.

Shane shrugs. “What can I say… I have to eat all the garlic fries while I’m single and not in a good place to mingle.”

“Man, I miss those garlic fries,” Connor says.

“Robbie also loves the garlic fries, he’s just too much of a dick to admit it.”

Talking about Robbie quickly leads to a conversation about Michael – “He has a cow, can you believe that?” – and Gunner – “Fuck, I hope they don’t re-sign him at the end of the season, he’s the worst teammate I’ve ever had.”

Connor pulls into the driveway of a house Shane has never been to. He moved out of his other friend’s house and moved in with Nick Rivera. Who lives in a fancy-as-shit mansion.

“This place is nice,” Shane says as he gets out of the car.

There’s another car in the driveway and one more in the garage. Connor is pretty slow to get out of the car, peering over his shoulder like he’s looking for something. He opens the door even more slowly and a dog’s nose appears as soon as he’s opened it an inch.

“Hey, bud,” Connor says.

“Is that your old roommate’s dog?” Shane asks. He is so fucking blessed.

“Uh, yeah.”

He pushes the door open to let in Shane and he immediately bends down to pet the dog.

Somewhere down the hall someone’s talking. “–don’t care about your shirt, we’re not going to a four-star restaurant, you look hot in anyth–”

“Hey, I’m back,” Connor shouts.

“Hey, we’re on our way out. If Nick ever stops obsessing over his outfit.” Alex Goldman comes down the hall, waving at them. “We’re gonna get burgers, I don’t know what he needs to look pretty for.”

Shane laughs. He knows guys like that. Robbie really cares about his hair. A lot. More than anyone should care. And Luke always looks like he’s taking the entire team out for a date when they head out for dinner together on the road.

“Alex is babysitting Nick for the night,” Connor says.

“Are we babysitting the dog in return?” Shane asks.

“I was gonna drop him off at home, but if you want to have him around, I can–”

“ _Yes_ ,” Shane says.

Alex laughs. “Okay, I’ll pick him up when I drop off Nick, I guess.”

“Thank you. Byron, right?”

“Yeah.”

Nick eventually comes down the stairs, nods at Shane and then he and Alex are out the door and it’s Connor and Shane and a very good boy.

“I’m so fucking lucky,” Shane says. “When I was in New York, I hung out Brady and he has two Golden Retrievers and they’re so adorable.”

“Brady?” Connor says. “As in… Rosie?”

“Yeah.”

Connor gives him a _look_.

“What? He sends me pictures of his dogs sometimes. They’re really cute.” Shane points at Byron. “Like that one. Look how cute he is.”

“I know that he’s cute,” Connor says with a grin. “He’s the best boy.”

“Yeah, so what’s with the…” Shane waves vaguely in Connor’s direction.

“Nothing, I was just wondering if maybe it’s not just the dogs that are cute,” Connor says and flops down on the couch. “But, hey, I’m sure the dogs are adorable.” He bends down to Byron, who’s followed him to the couch. “Right? Adorable, but not as adorable as you, because you’re the goodest boy and the softest marshmallow, aren’t you?”

Shane laughs and sinks into an armchair.

“I’m glad Alex comes over a lot and brings Byron, otherwise I’d miss him way too much.” Connor scratches Byron behind his ears. “Yeah, I’d miss you so much. Go say hi to Shane now, you’re here because of him.”

Shane reaches out and Byron obediently comes over to him, sniffs his hand and puts his head on Shane’s knee. “Wow, who cares that we haven’t won a single game on this roadie, I’m in dog heaven.” He glances at Connor.

Connor is looking back at him, because he _knows_ and he’s waiting for Shane to go ahead and say it.

Shane sighs. “Okay, yeah, you were right, Brady is kinda cute, too.”

Connor’s smile is a little lopsided, because he knows that Shane has rules and that he sticks to those fucking rules.

“He’s a hockey player,” Shane says with a shrug. “Not gonna happen. And, anyway… Brady is like… really straight.”

“Because all hockey players are straight until proven otherwise?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And you know how it is with some guys, you can’t tell if they’re just… chirping you or if they’re…” Shane shakes his head, absent-mindedly scratching Byron’s head. “Doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m not gonna get involved with a guy who might end up on my team at some point.”

Connor pulls a face.

“Anyway,” Shane says. “How’s everything going with Nessie?”

“All good,” Connor says, his face turning faintly pink. “I mean, it sucks that we’re both traveling so much, so we don’t see that much of each other, but… we do what we can. And I think Nessie doesn’t mind, you know… being by herself sometimes.”

“Can’t relate,” Shane says. He loves having people around. Although he is sort of picky about the people he wants around.

“Why don’t you find yourself a new roommate?” Connor asks.

“Finding a roommate is really hard. Like, you have to live with that guy. Probably for the entire season. What if he turns out to be a dick? And then I can’t get rid of him.”

“Aw, come on, most guys are cool.”

“No, but… You have no idea how many guys you thought were cool turn out to be assholes. Like, imagine… I have a roommate and I think he’s a good dude, but then… I mean, not that I’m expecting that I’ll be dating anyone any time soon, but what if a miracle happens? And then I can’t take the guy home because my new roommate is actually a douchebag. Like, I can’t just tell people that I’m gay, I have to do a full assessment of their personality before I even think about telling them. My career would be fucking over if the wrong person found out.”

“Shane,” Connor says softly, “do you need a hug?”

Shane lets out something that could be either a laugh or a sob. It’s probably a little bit of both. He gets up and sits next to Connor, who puts an arm around him and gives him a squeeze. “Fuck, I’m so glad you didn’t turn out to be a douchebag,” Shane whispers.

They order Chinese food. A ton of it. And they put on a game and Byron is sleeping with his head next to Shane’s feet. They talk while the Ravens light up the Knights and Shane is in the middle of a story about Michael and his adventures in finding German food when something moves over by the door.

Shane literally stops talking halfway through a sentence.

“Kitty,” he says. Connor’s sent him pictures, but Shane has never met her.

“Oh, Emily,” Connor says. “She’s shy around new people, so she was probably hiding in Nick’s room.”

Shane starts making cooing noises at the cat, because he can’t leave this house without petting her. She comes over shorty after the Ravens score their sixth goal. Elliot Cowell is one goal away from another hat trick. Shane kind of hates him, except he also kind of wants to be him.

Emily jumps onto the couch and Shane stretches out his hand to her. She sniffs it and doesn’t eat Shane when he carefully scratches her head. He wouldn’t say he’s definitely a dog person or definitely a cat person, he just knows that a lot of people think that cats are assholes and that dogs are all the best. The thing is, his grandma had two cats when he was little and they would take naps with him and sit on him and purr and Shane loved them to bits. So cats are good. And dogs are also good. Having both is fantastic.

It takes Emily a few more minutes to actually come closer. She sits down next to Shane, like a little loaf, and purrs while he pets her.

They’re still sitting like that when the garage door opens and both Byron and Emily take off to investigate.

It’s at least five minutes until Nick and Alex actually come into the living room. The Ravens have scored _another_ goal in the meantime.

“Oh, shit,” Alex says with a glance at the score. “Cowell’s gonna win the Rocket Richard, I’m calling it now.” He gives Nick a pat on the back. “Sorry, Nicky.”

Nick laughs and elbows Alex in the side.

“Now that I’ve verbally ruined your entire season, I’m gonna head out,” Alex says. “Good to see you, Shane.”

“Thanks for letting us borrow your dog,” Shane says.

Alex nods. “Sure, no worries, he loves hanging out here. Bye, guys.”

He turns to leave, then Nick clears his throat and says, “Sorry, I, uh… I think I forgot something in his car.” And then he’s gone, too.

When he comes back, the Ravens game is over. He doesn’t stay, just picks up Emily and bids them a good night.

Nick Rivera is kind of… weird. He’s an excellent hockey player, no doubt about it. But when he was still with the Lions, there were all those rumors floating around, those whispers about Nick being a terrible teammate, about him having a drug problem, and now that he’s with the Cardinals there’s nothing. No rumors, not a single bad word uttered by anyone. Everybody loves him.

Shane won’t lie, he was a bit confused when Connor told him that he was moving in with Nick Rivera. He didn’t seem like the kind of person Connor would want to live with. But Connor’s never complained about a thing either. He mentions Nick sometimes, usually in passing, and they’re definitely really good friends. Obviously Shane knows that you can’t believe all the rumors that get spread around the league, because people just love to make up all sorts of bullshit, but with Nick Rivera… well, there was always something off about him. He’s too polished and boring in interviews, like he’d rather not show even just a smidgen of his personality.

Shane and Connor are obviously not immune to the gossip. When Connor is driving him back to the hotel, he tells him that apparently two of Boston’s players got into a bar fight during the offseason. With each other. They didn’t get arrested, but apparently the Grizzlies’ locker room isn’t a fun place to be this season.

“I’m so glad we don’t have a huge asshole on the team,” Connor says. “We signed a few new forwards and one of them was a bit weird in the beginning, but I think he just needed some time to adjust.”

“I wish Gunner just needed some time to adjust, but I think he’s just a huge asshole.”

Connor snorts.

The next day, Connor socks Gunner in the face when Gunner tries to start shirt with the Cardinals’ goalie.

The Hawks lose the game.

_at least u punched gunner_ , Shane texts Connor afterwards.

It’s the only thing that brings him joy right now.


	12. Chapter 12

They finally start winning more games once they’re back on home ice. The media obviously trashed them for coming home from a five-game roadie with only two points – they managed a win in Boston, but that one was too close for Shane’s liking, too – but their first game back on home ice is a 4-0 shutout against the Lions. Two more wins, and they’re finally back on track.

They decide to head out to one of their regular places after the game before their three-day holiday break.

Shane is in a great mood. Three-drink Shane is in an even better mood. Christmas is just around the corner and it’s snowing and everything smells like cinnamon. He gets to sleep in tomorrow and Michael is sharing onion rings with him and Brady is sending him pictures of sleepy dogs and everything’s just fucking perfect for a couple of hours.

Then Gunner sits down at their table and Shane plays with the thought of immediately getting up and walking away, because he knows that not being here will make his evening a hundred percent more pleasant. But he’s trapped between Michael and Robbie and maybe Gunner will leave quickly.

“Hey, hey,” Gunner says, “you guys look like you’ve never even heard of fun.”

Shane does his best not to roll his eyes. They were having a great time, thank you very much.

Michael takes his beer and takes a big sip. Shane feels that on a spiritual level.

“Anyway, I was sent over here,” Gunner says. He grins at someone who’s standing over by the bar. It’s a group of girls, all in short dresses and high heels, giggling when Gunner waves at them. “My new friends over there were wondering if any of you would like to come have a drink with us at the bar.”

Shane is sure they’re perfectly nice girls and he’s had similar stuff happen where it was fans who just wanted to ask for a selfie or an autograph, but he’s pretty sure those girls are looking for something else. Something that Shane’s definitely not interested in.

He tried to pretend for a while and he sometimes lets one of the guys set him up on a date, because there’s always a girlfriend who has a really cute friend and maybe it doesn’t hurt to be seen with a girl every now and then, but Shane just isn’t in the fucking mood anymore. Whatever, so he’s single. That’s fine. He’s not the only one. There’s a bunch of guys without girlfriends and nobody cares.

Robbie laughs. “I’m good,” he says.

Shane nods, like he, too, has a girlfriend who happens to be going to university on the East Coast and that’s why he doesn’t want to hook up with a girl tonight.

“Aw, come on,” Gunner says. “Not even to say hi? Your girlfriend won’t mind.”

Robbie raises his eyebrows at Gunner, like he wants to tell him to fuck off in no uncertain terms, but he ends up going with, “Nah, seriously…”

“Suit yourself,” Gunner says and nods at Michael. “What about you, Mikey? They’re very, very interested in meeting new people, you know?”

Michael glances at the girls. “Why don’t you keep them company?”

“I mean, I totally will,” Gunner says. “They’re total babes, are you fucking blind?” He laughs. “Or are they…” He laughs again, “not your type?”

If it wasn’t for the look Gunner is giving Michael right now, Shane might think that by _not your type_ Gunner means blondes and brunettes. But that’s not what he means. And Michael looks like he’d rather melt into the floor than stay at this table for a second longer.

Robbie clears his throat. “Hey, man, just go back to them and have a good time, yeah?”

Gunner shakes his head at them, like they’ve gravely disappointed him and wanders back over to his ladies.

Michael clears his throat. “I’m not…” He shrugs. “Whatever.”

Shane finishes his drink. He knows that Michael is one of the good guys. He knows why Michael feels like he has to tell them that he’s definitely not gay. You never know what the people sitting next to you are thinking. Robbie’s their You Can Play ambassador, but it’s not like Shane has ever said anything about whether or not he supports the community. He usually stays as fucking far away from that topic as he can and when their You Can Play Night rolls around, he usually says something non-committal, like, “We support everyone in our locker room and so I’d also support a gay teammate.” Then he puts some pride tape on his stick and that’s it. He doesn’t walk around screaming this stuff from the rooftops.

It doesn’t really matter if Michael is gay or not, that’s not the point. If he actually is, it’s not like he’ll just go ahead and say it now.

So Shane goes ahead and does what he’d want someone to do if it was him on the spot. “So,” he says, “I know this is definitely not on the meal plan, but they have a brownie sundae on the menu and I think we should get one.”

“We should,” Robbie says. “Foxie, you like brownies or are those too American for you?”

Michael grins. “Brownies are good.”

“Wow, I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that something we eat is good.”

“Well,” Michael says, “some food is good. But when my mom comes… she’ll make you German food. And you’ll understand.”

“Yeah, we get to come over for dinner?”

“Yes,” Michael says.

“Why aren’t _you_ making us German food?” Shane asks.

“I have. But my mom…” Michael shakes his head. “She’s on another level, you know? Best in the kitchen. My dad once said he’s better at making Schnitzel and she laughed at him for half an hour.”

Robbie grins. “God, I’m super ready for that German food orgy. When is she coming?”

“On the 29th, when we’re back from the road trip,” Michael says. “I’m happy she’s coming, I miss her a lot.”

“She couldn’t come for Christmas?”

“She could have, but then we leave right after Christmas, so it would have only been three days,” Michael says. “Are your parents coming?”

“My parents, and my girlfriend,” Robbie says, “and my girlfriend’s parents and her two little sisters. And Shane.”

Shane laughs. At first he told Robbie that he’d just hang out at home on Christmas, because Robbie is gonna have a full house anyway, but Robbie wouldn’t have it, because Shane comes to his place every year. So it’s Robbie, his family, his girlfriend and her entire family, plus Shane, which surely won’t be awkward at all.

“What are you doing?” Robbie asks Michael.

“Just…” Michael shrugs. “You know, German Christmas is tomorrow.”

“You should come to mine with Shane on American Christmas,” Robbie says. “It’ll be fun. And by fun I mean dreadful, because my girlfriend’s dad hates me.”

“I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be,” Shane says. “You should totally come.”

“Then you should come for German Christmas to my place,” Michael says.

“I feel like this is becoming a little competitive,” Shane says. “You wanna come to my place on… New Year’s Eve?”

“Eyyy, party at Shane’s house,” Robbie says. “Foxie, you can bring your mom.”

“I will. She likes parties. You buy wine, she’ll be happy.”

They order their brownie sundaes and Luke joins them to stare at them until they offer him a bite. Robbie doesn’t eat all of his and eventually lets Luke have the rest of it.

When everyone starts yawning, Shane piles Robbie and Michael into his car and takes them both home. Robbie nearly falls flat on his face when he gets out of the car and leaves them with a very loud, “I’m okay, I’m fine, all good. Sleep well, babes.”

Shane heads over to Michael’s place next.

“So you’re coming over tomorrow, yeah?” Michael says. “For German Christmas?”

Shane didn’t realize that Michael was serious about that. Robbie obviously isn’t coming, because he’ll have a ton of people invading his house, but Shane is available. All day. It’s kinda sad.

He didn’t want to invite his parents, though, because he’s going to be in Minnesota in January anyway and this way they can spend the holidays with Jen and her family. Jen sure as hell wouldn’t try to come down with her husband and the kids. It’d be insane. Jen’s kids are cute but there comes a point where they turn into little monsters who scream and cry no matter what you do.

So Shane’s on his own. Which is fine. He hasn’t spent Christmas with his parents since he first moved to Denver. He wouldn’t mind spending the day with Michael, though, especially since Michael would be on his own, too.

“Yeah, for sure,” Shane says. “Do you need help grocery shopping or anything? I can come.”

“No, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” Shane says. “I can pick you up and we can go buy all the good shit.”

“Okay, cool,” Michael says and tries to give Shane a fist bump, missing Shane’s fist two times before they get to the actual bump part.

Shane picks up Michael with two coffee-to-go cups the next day and they head to the closest grocery store. It’s absolute mayhem. Obviously.

They buy a fuckton of food. More than the two of them will ever be able to eat. Michael gets potatoes and sausages, muttering about how they’re not as good as the ones at home. “I have to get a big bag of chocolate to make myself feel better about your inadequate sausages,” Michael tells Shane.

Shane laughs. “Our _inadequate_ sausages?”

“I’ve learned a lot of words since I came here,” Michael says. “I like knowing a lot of words.”

Shane shakes his head at him and grabs a chicken. Won’t take as long as a turkey and there’s only two of them. They’ll end up with a German-American mashup and Shane is pretty fucking excited about it.

Or at least he is until they approach the pie crust, squabbling about whether it’s easier to make their own pie or to just buy one.

“We’re going to ruin the pie and then we won’t have any dessert,” Shane says.

“It’s a pie,” Michael says. “How hard can it be?”

“This is exactly what people say before they ruin dessert.”

“What if we make one _and_ buy one?”

“Do you even have a recipe for pie?” Shane asks. “Do you know how to make pie crust? Do you have pies in Germany?”

“We buy pie crust. We buy pie filling. Done. It’ll be a pie.”

Shane doesn’t tell him that it doesn’t really count as _making_ a pie. “Fine, that pie will be your project.” He looks around. “And my project will be to pick a pie that’s already done and edible.”

“You have no faith,” Michael says.

“And you have no–”

“Shane.”

Shane recognizes his voice. Of course he does. It’s the voice that used to mumble to him before he fell asleep, it’s the voice that used to whisper, “I love you,” when he woke up in the morning. He turns around very slowly, because he has to mentally prepare himself for the moment he’ll see Toby and his hot accountant boyfriend.

It’s just Toby, though. No hot accountant boyfriend in sight. Small mercies.

“Hey,” Shane says.

Michael is still standing next to him. Michael, who doesn’t know about Toby and who’s probably wondering who the fuck this guy is. And Toby probably doesn’t know that Michael is Shane’s teammate and not his new boyfriend and if Shane doesn’t clear all of that up really quickly, things will get awkward even quicker.

Before he can say another word, a guy appears behind Toby and throws something into his shopping cart. “Babe, I found the–” His eyes go wide. He’s wearing a Hawks hat, that’s probably why.

Toby clears his throat. “Yeah, so remember when I told you that I know a guy who plays for the Hawks?”

Shane tries to smile. So, two things: Apparently Toby has a new boyfriend. And apparently he didn’t tell the boyfriend that the Hawks player he knows also happened to be his boyfriend once upon a time. Which is great. More small mercies. “Hey,” Shane says. “I’m Shane, this is Michael.”

“I know,” whispers Toby’s new boyfriend.

Shane would think it’s sort of funny if he wasn’t busy not dying on the spot. They take a picture with him, Toby snapping it for them, and then they quickly go their separate ways. Toby’s new boyfriend isn’t the only one who recognizes them, though. Michael ends up singing a hat and a shirt, Shane ends up taking a picture with a fan with a bunch of pies in the background, because he was about to pick up an apple pie for him and Michael.

Michael, in the meantime, grabs pie crust and pre-made pie filling, which is… Shane just doesn’t get it. He could have bought a cherry pie that’s already done.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Shane says when he swipes his card at the register.

“You deep-fry butter in this country,” Michael says. “Nothing makes sense.”

They bought way too much food. Are they going to eat a pie each? Well, it’s Christmas. They might as well.

When they’ve stuffed all the food into the trunk and Shane is pulling out of the parking lot, Michael says, “So, your friend…”

Shane saw that one coming. “Toby?” he asks.

“Yes… and his… boy… friend?” Michael says. “How do you know them?”

“Oh, we just… I don’t even remember. I’ve known Toby for a while.” They met at that exact grocery store. Maybe he met the new guy at that fucking grocery store, too.

Shane needs to focus on not driving his car straight into a ditch.

Michael nods.

Shane glances over at him.

Michael is staring straight ahead.

“What?” Shane asks. He probably shouldn’t. He should change the topic and move on.

“I just think it’s nice,” Michael says.

“Oh,” Shane says. Nice?

“I know people who are gay.”

“Yeah?”

“When I was younger, I played with someone who… He didn’t want to play hockey anymore and he didn’t tell me why for a really long time. He just stopped. I still see him when I’m Germany for the summer and he only told me a few years ago. That he’s gay.”

Shane is gripping the steering wheel very, very tightly.

“He said he didn’t want to hear it anymore… what the other guys were saying in the locker room.”

Shane lets out a puff of breath. He knows what kind of stuff gets said in locker rooms. It’s not so bad anymore, but there’s always a few guys who are stuck on the same bullshit that Shane used to hear in juniors. “That sucks,” Shane mutters.

Michael hums. “I feel bad. Not because I… I mean, maybe I did say something that hurt him, you know? I don’t even remember. And I also never said anything to the other guys. I could have told them to be quiet.”

“I don’t think that’s…” Shane remembers being fifteen, sixteen maybe, remembers his teammates calling a guy on the other team a faggot. He didn’t say shit either, because it comes back to haunt you. “You’re still his friend.”

“Of course I am. I don’t know if I was always a good friend, though.”

“I think…” Shane nearly misses their exit, quickly swerves into the right lane and takes the exit. “Sorry. Anyway…”

He sees Michael glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes, like Michael was expecting him to say more, but Shane just doesn’t have it in him. There’s too much going on in his head now.

Michael has a gay friend. That he still hangs out with. And he’s totally fine with it.

Which means… he’d probably be fine with Shane telling him.

It’d be okay. Shane doesn’t often have a guarantee that it’ll be okay. With Connor it was a complete shot in the dark, he had only one thing to go on – a heartfelt _shut the fuck up_ directed at a former teammate who kept saying that one of their opponents probably sucked a ref’s dick because he kept getting away with stuff that should have resulted in a penalty. And with Robbie… Well, it was a little easier, because a guy doesn’t volunteer to be an ambassador for You Can Play if he’s a homophobic douchebag, but telling him was still nerve-wracking.

Today is probably not a good day for this.

He should sleep on it.

They start preparing their food together, listening to Christmas music, their playlist a mix of English and German songs, but Michael doesn’t actually get into it until _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ comes on and he starts bouncing around the kitchen, swinging the potato masher. Shane didn’t even know there was a specific tool to mash potatoes. He also didn’t know that Michael was kinda good at singing.

Michael tells him about Christmas in Germany and they call his family in the afternoon – “We have to call them when the kids got their presents otherwise there will be a riot. Can’t delay the presents.” Michael’s family tries to teach Shane how to say _Frohe Weihnachten_ , but Shane gets his tongue in a knot every single time and they laugh at him and come up with increasingly ridiculous words for him to say.

“That can’t be a real word,” Shane says every time.

Michael threatens to grab a dictionary.

The rest of the call is mostly them trying to be appropriately excited about all the presents Michael’s nieces and nephews got for Christmas. Some things are said in German and Shane listens and tries to understand what’s going on, what’s so funny over there in Germany when they’re all laughing, but he doesn't have a clue.

“Sorry,” Michael’s mom says eventually, her German accent much more noticeable than Michael’s. “We stop speaking German now.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Shane says.

“Thank you for spending Christmas with Michi,” she says. Then she says something else in German that was clearly only for Michael and afterwards they say goodbye and there’s a lot of waving and shouting until someone on the other end finally takes pity and hangs up.

They finish making dinner and once Shane’s chicken is out of the oven, Michael puts in his pie.

“Hey, what did your mom call you?” Shane asks.

“Michi. Don’t call me that, though, I only let her call me that because she’s my mom.”

“Don’t worry, I can’t make those sounds with my mouth anyway,” Shane says.

Their dinner is absolutely ridiculous, they have chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy, and sausages and potato salad, green beans and brussels sprouts, and Michael opens up some really expensive wine, because, “American beer is terrible and I’m not even gonna touch it.” And by the time they get started on their pies, now in front of the TV, Shane is feeling a little woozy. Doesn’t help that Michael got them another bottle of wine.

“My pie is better than yours,” Michael says. “Admit it.”

“Stop being mean to my pie,” Shane grumbles. “It’s apple pie. It’s an American classic.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen the movie about the pie.”

Shane laughs.

“Mine’s still better,” Michael says.

It really is.

Michael elbows Shane in the side. “It’s okay, you can say it. If you do, I have a surprise for you.”

“Fine, yours is a teeny bit better.”

“Good enough,” Michael says, gets up and wanders away without another word.

Shane isn’t sure if he should follow him. Not that he can. He ate too much. He drinks another sip of wine, which isn’t the greatest idea either, because he was going to go home later, but if he keeps drinking he might have to leave his car here and walk. It’s not that far, but it’s cold as balls out there.

Maybe Michael would let him sleep on his couch. It’s a good couch. Michael’s house is nice, looks pretty similar to the one Shane lives in, except it’s maybe a bit smaller, with the same kind of hockey memorabilia strewn about.

Michael returns to him with a huge yellow box, grinning broadly. “My family sent this and I’m willing to share.”

The box is filled to the brim with German candy.

“Are you trying to kill me? I’m already about to explode,” Shane says but grabs a box of big chocolate cookies. “What are these?”

“Lebkuchen,” Michael says. “They’re good.”

They are really fucking good.

Michael watches him eat two of them, nodding like he knew this was going to happen. “You keep the rest.”

“But you–”

“My mom is coming. She’ll bring more.”

Michael pours them more wine. He seems to have an endless supply. They watch bad Christmas movies and get progressively more drunk, which would be totally fine, except Shane goes all floppy inside and out when he drinks too much, and he also has a lot of feelings, especially today and he keeps thinking about Michael and his German friend and he can’t stop.

It’s just so much easier when people know. When he’s hanging out with Robbie or Connor, he doesn’t have to watch every word he says, he can just say whatever he wants and it doesn’t matter.

He checks his phone to distract himself and there’s a whole bunch of texts – one of them is from Brady, who’s sent him a picture of Penny wearing a Santa hat and Chewie wearing an antler headband and it’s the cutest shit Shane’s ever seen. _It’s like you and Michael Fuchs in that video the Hawks posted_ , Brady said.

Which… yeah. The Hawks did their yearly Christmas video and they put a Santa hat on Shane and antlers on Michael and made them read a Christmas story, so he can see it.

 _iiim not as cute s them tho_ , Shane replies and then, because wine is bad, he adds, _i’m jus a lil bit cute_.

Brady replies with a cry-laughing emoji.

That’s a good reply, except it makes Shane feel weird. Like he was expecting something different. Which is stupid, because what did he think Brady would say? That Shane is more than a little bit cute? Yeah, right.

He puts down his phone, because at least he’s not too drunk to realize that he should stop texting. He drops his phone with a sigh.

Michael is watching him.

“I’m a disaster,” Shane tells him.

Michael laughs. “We are all disasters.”

He probably has a point there. Shane grabs his glass of wine, which is nearly half-full and gulps down the wine. He’s not sure why. Either to keep the words in or to help them come out.

Michael raises his eyebrows at him.

“Fuck,” Shane says and covers his face with his hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, totally… fine.” Shane squeezes his eyes shut. It’s like when he was a kid and thought that the monsters couldn’t get him just as long as he didn’t look at them. He takes a deep breath and says, “Toby’s my ex.”

It takes a moment for Michael to say, “Oh.” Which is then followed by another, more drawn-out, “ _Ohh_.”

“Yeah,” Shane says. He needs to take his hands off his face so he can face the monsters and see what Michael’s face looks like right now.

Michael looks… He’s frowning. Shane doesn’t like it. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have even said anything, or, like, at least not today, I mean, it’s fucking Christmas and this is totally not the time and–”

Michael gently puts his hand on Shane’s arm. “That must have sucked to see him with his new boyfriend.”

Shane can’t help but laugh, even though this isn’t funny and he’s actually really fucking sad. “Well… yeah. That sucked. But the new guy wasn’t the guy he left me for, so I’m not as mad as I would have been if he’d been with… the accountant.”

“He left your for an _accountant_?” Michael asks.

Shane loves the disbelief in Michael’s voice. He feels vindicated.

“You should have said I’m your new boyfriend,” Michael says. “I’m very good-looking. He would have been jealous.”

“Oh my God,” Shane says. He can imagine the look on Toby’s face. He would have loved to see it in real life. Obviously, he couldn’t have done it, not when Toby’s new boyfriend was right there. Toby’s new boyfriend who’s a _Hawks fan_. And not in a grocery store full of people.

Would have been hilarious, though.

“You broke up recently?” Michael asks.

“No, it’s been a while, but…” Shane shrugs. “You don't wanna hear this, it’s depressing.”

“Tell me. No better time to be depressing than Christmas.”

“What?”

“We have wine and a lot of chocolate and pie to help us,” Michael says. “Do you still love him?”

“No, it’s not even that,” Shane mumbles. “It’s more that I thought… I thought he was it for me, you know? I thought he was gonna stick with me and we’d be okay, even though I was… As boyfriends go, I guess I was a pretty shitty one. So I probably didn’t deserve him anyway. I don’t know.”

“No, you deserve someone who’s good to you. Not a guy who leaves you for an accountant.”

“Thank you,” Shane says lowly.

“It’s hard when you think someone wants the same thing as you and then they… don’t.”

“Yeah.”

Michael hands him one of those big individually wrapped Lindt truffles and Shane takes it, because at this point it doesn't matter if he eats even more sugar.

“Robbie knows?” Michael says after a moment.

“Yeah. He’s known for a while.”

Michael nods. “He is… good.”

“He is.”

And, apparently, so is Michael.


	13. Chapter 13

The rest of the season is a rollercoaster.

Shane sees his family in January when the Hawks are in Minnesota and he takes them out for dinner. It’s tense. There’s something so off about every conversation they have, every sentence stilted, that Shane ends up wondering if he just had dinner with clones of his parents who didn’t have time to learn how to imitate them properly. Hannah looks like she’s suffering. Jen barely says a word. They don’t even smile when they get their lava cakes for dessert.

When he gets back to the hotel, Shane is a fucking mess. He can’t sleep. He keeps thinking about how his parents didn’t even look at each other, how they only ever talked to him or Hannah or Jen but never to each other. He knows where this might be headed and he’s too far away to do anything about it. Even if he was there… he couldn’t force them to get along.

He feels distant from them, like the past couple of years removed him so far from his family that he’s not even part of it anymore.

Things don’t get much better. The Hawks slide from winning streaks into losing streaks and back again.

Shane misses a game in February because he gets sick. Michael comes over the next day after practice to bring him soup and watches Netflix while Shane dozes on the couch. Shane wishes Michael would just stay forever.

The next day, when Shane shows up for practice, Michael tells him that he actually said that out loud. Shane is kind of embarrassed about it, but then Michael moves on swiftly and says that he wants to get food at the Grill after practice and there’s no chirping after that, so it seems that Shane got away with that one. They eat gigantic burgers and Michael mumbles about how he misses his mom’s cooking. Shane also misses Michael’s mom’s cooking.

When the Cardinals are in town, half the team heads to the Grill to hang out with Connor. Shane doesn’t get Connor to himself too much that evening, but they talk about the summer and Connor promises that they’ll make plans and go somewhere together, so at least he has that to look forward to.

In early March, the Ravens are in town and Shane takes Brady to the Grill, because he’s been talking about it so much that Brady says he can’t leave Denver without having been there.

“So this is where you live?” Brady says as they slide into a booth.

“Yeah,” Shane says. “This is my living room. And I sleep in that booth over there.”

“Looks cozy,” Brady says, smirking down at the menu. “So, I guess I’m getting garlic fries.”

“You sure are.”

“What else is good?”

“Um, we can just get some stuff to share if you want?” Shane says.

“Cool.”

So he orders for them and they share their food and Brady shows him pictures of the dogs and Shane shows him pictures of Byron, and Brady totally pretends that he’s interested in them, even though Shane sent him the exact same pictures back in December. It’s cute. Shane should not be finding it cute, but he does.

This is his life now.

When Brady’s foot bumps against his under the table, he feels a heart attack coming.

Great.

Wonderful.

Brady doesn’t notice, his foot disappearing a split-second later, his eyes on the board with the pies they have today. He has a very sharp jawline. And a very soft smile.

“You wanna get pie?” Shane asks. He’s surprised he remembers how to speak.

“Maybe we can share a slice.”

“Apple,” Shane says. “With ice cream.”

He doesn’t think about all the times he came here with Toby and they shared a slice of pie and they very secretly nudged each other under the table. Those were dates. He’s not out on a date with Brady.

Doesn’t mean that he doesn’t accidentally trip into a little daydream about what it would be like if this was a date, if they were just regular people and could hold hands, if Shane could flirt with Brady and take him home and kiss him on his doorstep while snow’s drifting down on them and it would be freezing, but Shane wouldn’t even feel it. The tip of Brady’s nose might be a little cold, but it wouldn’t matter. And then Shane would take him inside and make hot chocolate and they’d forget all about it, because Shane would kiss Brady on the couch under a warm blanket and–

_Fuck_.

Brady grins. “This place is great, I get why you moved in.”

“Yeah,” Shane says, which is super eloquent.

“Guess you’ll have to take me here every time I come into town,” Brady says. He nods at the remaining garlic fries. “You want these?”

“You can have them,” Shane says.

He’s fought people for the last garlic fry. But Brady can have them. Because he’s Brady. And Shane is the dumbest shit in the world.

He makes it through the rest of the evening somehow and spends way too much time looking at Brady. He’s just very nice to look at, a smattering on freckles on his brown skin, even though it’s the dead of winter, and his soft brown eyes, and his curls, which are even softer. And his hoodie is too big on him so he has sweater paws and sometimes, when he smiles, it’s a bit lopsided and that little dimple makes an appearance.

Shane is so supremely fucked.

And Brady really wants him to come to Calgary in the summer. Well. Not actually Calgary. But he’ll pick him up a the airport in Calgary and he’ll take him to his family’s ranch, where he grew up, and it’s too fucking much, but Brady’s so excited about it that Shane can’t back out at this point. He’ll have to go, at least for a couple of days.

He still hasn’t told Brady that he’s sort of scared of horses.

Which will definitely be relevant. When he visits Brady at the ranch. Where all the horses live.

Brady might want him to actually… be close to a horse. Perhaps even touch a horse. Or, worst of all, get on a horse. And Shane will die.

Well.

He eventually takes Brady back to his hotel and doesn’t mention it. So it’s a problem for future Shane.

Just like dealing with The Feelings is a problem for future Shane.

Michael’s birthday is on the same day as their last game of the regular season. They clinched a playoff spot two days ago in Phoenix, but they could still get home ice.

They don’t, despite their four goals. The Wildcats score five and that’s that.

Michael leaves the game with a goal and two assists, so at least he had a good birthday game and they decide to go out for drinks after, the little group of theirs – Michael, Robbie, Luke and Shane, and after looking at them with the most tragic, abandoned eyes, Oreo joined them as well.

The good news is that even though the rest of the team eventually joins them at the same pub, nobody bugs them in their corner, except to bring the birthday boy drinks. Robbie has chosen himself as their designated driver for the evening, which was generous of him, considering that all of them end up getting beyond shitfaced, stumbling out of the pub holding on to each other, Michael leaning heavily against Shane, which is ridiculous because Michael is at least a head taller than him and he’s going to kill both of them.

“We lost Oreo,” Shane says.

“He was doing shots with the Russians, I think he’s fine.”

“He’ll die,” Luke says matter-of-factly. Probably because he’s done shots with the Russians before and he died.

“Sad,” Shane whispers.

Michael gives him a squeeze, his chin is digging into the top of Shane’s head. “Don’t you love Shane so much,” he says.

Shane looks around for help, but Robbie’s getting the car and Luke is looking faintly amused, so he won’t come to his rescue. “I love Shane a lot,” Shane says.

“You should,” Michael says. “Luke, don’t you love Shane?”

Luke hums.

“Not enough love,” Michael says and straight-up kisses Shane’s cheek.

Shane laughs and wipes his cheek. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Luke…” Michael lets go of Shane and goes to hug Luke, who indulgently pats Michael’s head when he wraps his arms around him and whispers, “I’m gonna sleep now.”

“Sleep well,” Luke says and then shoots Shane the most tortured look he’s ever seen.

Shane laughs.

“At least he didn’t lick my face,” Luke says.

“I can still do that,” Michael mumbles and stretches out his arm. “Shane, get in here. It’s my birthday and I want a birthday group hug.”

They had a bunch of birthday group hugs on the ice earlier, but Shane obliges anyway and somehow gets pulled into the middle of a Luke-and-Michael sandwich. Luke has never been a big hugger, but tolerates them after games when they all line up for head-pats. Shane started hugging Luke after games halfway through his his first season with the Hawks when Luke was going through a bit of a rough patch and there was some controversy about whether or not he was good enough to be their starter. Luke, a quiet guy already, grew even quieter, kept to himself, and looked like a kicked puppy, so Shane took it upon himself to be extra nice to him. So Shane thought a hug after a game wouldn’t hurt. Connor quickly joined him in the hug squad and Shane’s kept it going ever since.

Robbie pulls up, window rolled down, grinning at them. “Hop in, babes.”

Luke takes the front seat where no one will hug him and Shane and Michael crawl into the backseat, both of them giggling when Michael bonks his head.

“Careful back there,” Robbie says. “Put on your seatbelts.”

“You’re such a dad,” Shane says.

“Well, you’re children, so I guess that makes sense,” Luke says.

Michael and Shane giggle a little more. Shane’s reached that stage where everything seems hilarious. He pulls out his phone and they start taking badly lit selfies in the backseat, some so dark that you can barely see a thing, so Shane eventually puts the phone away and leans back with a sigh. “I’m hungry,” he says.

“Me too,” Michael says.

“Can we go to McDonalds?” Shane asks.

“No,” Robbie says.

“Please,” Michael says.

“It’s his birthday.”

“We’re nowhere close to McDonalds,” Robbie says, but that’s not a no.

Shane would feel kinda bad if he took them, though, so he says, “Hey, I have, like… bagel bites at home.”

“You eat bagel bites?” Luke asks, like he doesn’t have a bigger Ben & Jerry’s selection than the grocery store in his own fucking freezer. Shane has been to his house, he knows all his secrets.

Shane shrugs. “I eat them when I’m sad.” He probably wouldn’t have said that if he wasn’t drunk. He just buys them for when he has a bad day, because his mom used to make them for him sometimes when he lost a game with his peewee team. It’s not like he makes them after every loss. It’s more of a rainy day kinda thing; he likes having them in the freezer just in case.

“Michael won’t eat bagel bites, they’re too American.”

“I’ll eat them,” Michael says. He was also willing to go to McDonalds, so he must be starving.

Shane laughs.

So when they get to his place, Shane takes Michael with him, with Robbie telling them not to burn the house down as the stumble out of the car. Shane gets each of them a glass of water and throws the bagel bites in the microwave.

He waits until the cheese has melted and they eat the entire tray, leaning against the kitchen counter. Shane nudges the last one over to Michael, because it’s his birthday. Or it was, about two hours ago.

Shane’s phone buzzes twice in his pocket.

Its a text from Brady.

Because Shane sent Brady one of the pictures of him and Michael, of the both of them smiling at the camera, eyes closed.

_cute_ , Brady says, _but we’re cuter_.

Attached is a picture of Brady and the Ravens’ captain, Elliot Cowell, arm thrown around Brady, probably somewhere at a bar in LA, where the Ravens won their last game of the regular season, too. Shane hates that he’s jealous of Elliot Cowell right now. Not because Cowell finished the season with the most goals in the league – fifty-two fucking goals – but because you can see how tightly he’s squeezing Brady in the picture, like they’re the best of friends, his head leaning against Brady’s, and they are really cute and it’s terrible.

“What are you frowning about?” Michael asks.

“Eh, nothing,” Shane says and quickly locks his phone.

Michael takes the last bagel bite and shrugs. “Your face is very expressive.”

Shane glares at him.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Michael says.

Shane shrugs. “It’s not really… it’s just…” He’s not really talked to Michael about anything personal since he told him he’s gay back in December. It hasn’t come up, except one time in passing when they had their Pride Night in February. But he doesn’t talk to Michael and Robbie about boys, he saves all of that for his conversations with Connor. But now he’s drunk and he has things to say. “It’s this guy…”

“Oh, which guy?”

“A… cute guy.”

Michael tilts his head. “Then why were you frowning? Was he too cute? You couldn’t handle it?”

That is, in fact, a problem that Shane is familiar with, but that’s not it. “No, he’s not even… Like, he’s being cute somewhere else and I’m not even supposed to think he’s cute.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Shane closes his eyes. He can’t tell Michael that he’s caught feelings for a hockey player. “He probably doesn’t even like guys and he doesn’t live here and everything about him is a bad idea.”

“Oh,” Michael says.

“Anyway, it’s not like… I can’t just date guys, you know?”

“It seems unfair,” Michael mumbles.

Shane shrugs. “Yeah, well…” He yawns. Shrugs again. “You wanna sleep here? I have a guest room.”

“That would be great.”

“Sure, no worries.”

Shane takes Michael upstairs, shows him the guest room and then curls up in his own bed.

He looks at the picture Brady sent one more time before he falls asleep.

He hates everything so much.


	14. Chapter 14

They scrape into the playoffs thanks to a late-season win streak, but their short summer eventually catches up with them. They lose the first round in five games and afterwards Shane doesn’t even have it in him to be disappointed.

After they’re done with their exit interviews, he stays in bed for an entire day.

He’s so fucking tired.

Orlie throws them a party before they all pack their bags and scatter all over the world. Shane sticks around for a few more days after that but his friends leave, one by one, Robbie heads to Connecticut, Luke to Sweden, Michael to Germany, and Shane is reaching a point where he needs to make a choice about where he’s going next. Eventually, he’ll head up to Winnipeg, but he needs to show his face in St. Paul at some point, and Shane might as well just get it over with.

Which is a terrible way to think about going home.

He’d rather go somewhere with Connor, but Connor’s still playing hockey. Funnily enough, the Cardinals end up playing the second round against the Ravens and Shane has some trouble figuring out who he’s supposed to root for, because whenever Connor is sad after a loss, Brady will be happy after a win. It’s weird. He keeps telling himself that he’ll be happy no matter who ends up winning. He sends both of them good luck texts before every game.

He helps Michael pack up his stuff and they take it all to Shane’s house for the summer, because Michael’s lease is up in July and he’ll be in Germany at that point. Shane drives him to the airport and when he drops him off and gives him a hug goodbye, he can’t keep himself from saying, “Hey, if you wanna move in with me next season, feel free.” He mentions it in passing. Like it’s not a big deal.

Michael gives him another hug. “If you have room for me.”

“Totally,” Shane says.

Michael holds on to him for a moment and pats Shane’s head before he wishes him a good summer and heads through security.

When Shane drives home, he turns up the radio and sings along and when he hops on a flight home two days later, he’s still in a great mood.

It doesn’t last.

He watches Game 6 of the Cardinals-Ravens series with Hannah, neither of their parents home. Their mom is out with her friends and their dad has _a work thing_. Shane has barely talked to them since he got here yesterday. He’s offered to take everyone out for dinner and somehow his parents aren’t available on the same evening for the entire week.

“You can take me out for dinner,” Hannah said.

He will.

He got here just in time for Hannah’s high school graduation. Shane can’t believe she’s off to college in a couple of months. She’s going to Boston University. In a couple of days he’ll take her to buy a graduation present and afterwards he’ll buy her dinner. Today he just ordered them pizza.

It’s during the first intermission when Shane is making them a bowl of popcorn that Hannah sidles up to him in the kitchen and says, “You know, now that I’m gonna leave…”

Shane looks up. “What?”

“They’re gonna…” Hannah shrugs. She’s almost as tall as Shane, not that he’s super tall to begin with. He has no idea when she got so tall, though.

She doesn’t have to finish that sentence for Shane to figure out what she means. Their parents don’t talk to each other. They’re barely even in the same room anymore. Shane walked in here yesterday and immediately wanted to walk back out. He hates that Hannah has to live here with them and has to be in between, has to see their glares, has to watch them silently hate each other.

“They don’t even argue anymore,” Hannah says.

“I’m sorry,” Shane mutters. He should have called her more often, should have made sure she had someone to talk to, because their parents have clearly clocked the fuck out.

“Dad has a girlfriend.”

“He _what_?”

“He’s probably with her tonight.”

“How do you know about this?”

“I heard them argue about it,” Hannah says. “Apparently it’s been going on for a few months.”

“So Mom knows?”

“Yep,” Hannah replies, making the _p_ pop. “Not sure if she actually gives a shit.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Sure is,” Hannah says and makes a face. She gets the popcorn for him, because Shane is frozen to the spot. “Does Jen know?”

“I told her but… She has her own stuff to deal with.”

“And you’ve known about this for how long?”

“A couple of weeks,” Hannah says. “I was gonna tell you, but you had hockey and playoffs and all that, so–”

“You had finals, you had… You could have called, you know? You can always call.”

Hannah shrugs, turns away and grabs the popcorn bowl, wiping at her eyes as she walks away. Shane follows her after a moment, sits next to her on the couch, but he doesn’t know what the hell to say. He can’t make any of this better, he can’t change anything, can’t go back in time and stop this from happening.

So they sit on the couch together and they watch hockey.

The Cardinals can win it tonight, but they’re down by two goals right now. The Ravens are fighting hard, literally. Elliot Cowell nearly murders one of Connor’s teammates when he keeps bugging the Ravens’ goalie. It’s ridiculous that Cowell hasn’t won a Cup yet, he’s just that fucking good and Shane hates playing against him. He was a second overall pick eleven years ago and he was amazing back then and he’s unbelievable now. They show him on the bench after his shift, a cut on his face from a high stick a few games ago, talking to someone over his linemate’s head. When the camera zooms out, Shane sees that Elliot’s talking to Brady. He hasn’t seen a lot of ice time, but he scored a goal in Game 4, had an assist in Game 1, so he’s doing well. Shane’s happy for him.

The second period ends with a Cardinals power play and an absolutely filthy goal from Josh Roy.

The Ravens fall apart in the third. Santana scores early on, then Rivera scores less than a minute later and just like that the Cardinals have the lead. The Ravens take a dumb penalty late in the third and Rivera scores another one and that’s it for the Ravens.

They have a minute left on the clock and it runs down, the Cardinals piling on their goalie.

“Oh my God,” Hannah squeals and starts hitting Shane’s arm, “text Waldo, do it right now. Actually, can I text Waldo?”

Shane rolls his eyes and hands over his phone and Hannah sends at least twenty texts, Shane narrowing his eyes at her when she hands it back, hoping sincerely that she didn’t go digging through his other messages.

He needn’t have worried, because when he gets his phone back, his text conversation with Connor is still open. It goes like this:

_wooohooooo you’re halfway there!!!!_

_WELL DONE_

_WE’VE ONLY MET LIKE TWICE BUT YOU WERE ALWAYS MY FAVE OF SHANE’S TEAMMATES_

_love you <3_

_also can you tell nick rivera that he’s very handsome and those goals were beauties_

It’s pretty obvious that Connor didn’t write those texts, but he adds a _these were from Hannah btw_ anyway. Just to be sure. And a _happy for you_ , because he is. “Did you have to say that about Nick Rivera?”

“What, he is super hot,” Hannah says. “A total babe, honestly.”

“Please stop.”

She does not stop. “You know, the Ravens are a really good-looking team in general. Whatshisface is really hot… Matheson.”

“He’s like… thirty-four.”

“So?” Hannah laughs and nods at the TV. “Aw, look at Keith Taylor, he’s a babe, too, but like… in a squishy cheeks kinda way, you know? Oh, and that guy’s cute, what’s his name?”

It’s Brady.

“Rosenberg,” Hannah muses. “Hey, can I have your phone?”

“Why?”

“Mine’s charging and I wanna look him up.”

“ _No_ ,” Shane says and sticks his phone into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Chill, I wasn’t gonna look for shirtless pics or anything.”

“I’m begging you to stop,” Shane mutters.

“Okay, I know that guys are weird about this, because they can’t admit that they can tell when another man is attractive because they’re scared of seeming gay or whatever, but…” Hannah shakes her head. “Like, some of those dudes are just really hot, you know?”

Shane does know, but he spends every day of his life pretending that he doesn’t notice.

“You’re really gonna make me get my phone, aren’t you?”

Shane doesn’t reply and keeps his phone in his pocket and his eyes on the TV where Josh Roy of the Connecticut Cardinals is being interviewed. They’re going to Conference Finals. Connor appears and hugs Roy in passing, smiling brightly, but he’s gone a moment later.

While Hannah is getting her phone, Shane sends a sad face to Brady. He’s not expecting a reply any time soon.

“Shane,” Hannah says as she comes bouncing back into the living room. “He’s adorable. How have I never heard of this guy before?”

“Because his big brother is one of the Foxes’ best players and everyone always just talks about him?”

“Oh, he’s related to Jeff Rosenberg?”

“And Zach Rosenberg.”

Hannah whistles. “He’s the hottest one, though. Look at those eyelashes.” She holds up her phone and shows Shane a picture of Brady at practice, no helmet on, his curls soft. He’s not smiling, his lips parted slightly and Shane has never wanted to kiss anyone this much in his entire life. This is torture.

He turns back to the TV and switches to one of the West Coast games. Calgary’s playing in Seattle tonight and Calgary is a loss away from elimination.

“ _Shit_ ,” Hannah says next to him. She’s still on her phone.

Shane doesn’t want to know. He really doesn’t. Except he does.

Hannah doesn’t give him a choice anyway because she holds out her phone and Shane can’t help but look. It’s Brady, standing in a locker room, likely in Chicago, going by the blurry logos, in nothing but shorts.

“I thought you weren’t going to look for shirtless pics?” Shane grits out.

“Not on _your_ phone,” Hannah says.

Shane rolls his eyes. He didn’t need to see that. Because now he’s going to think about it and he really wasn’t going to think about Brady in that way.

Their mom comes home about half an hour later, gives each of them a kiss but doesn’t join them on the couch and heads straight to bed.

Hannah continues to show Shane pictures of Brady. The Sailors score two goals in a minute and Hannah gasps softly, but not because of the goals. “He has dogs,” she whispers. “And they have an Instagram.”

Okay, now she has his attention. He’s been trying to find Brady’s Instagram ever since Brady started chirping him about his workout videos. “Dogs?” he says, like that’s the only thing he cares about.

“They’re so fluffy,” Hannah says.

“They are.”

Hannah grabs his arm. “Did you know he has dogs? And you didn’t tell me about it?”

“I thought you were only interested in his pretty face,” Shane says.

Hannah grins. “So you agree that he has a pretty face?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Shane splutters.

“Relax, no need to go all _no homo_ ,” Hannah mutters.

“I wasn’t…” Shane trails off, because it’s probably better not to get into a discussion about this. He does glance at Hannah’s phone though to see which Instagram account he has to follow later.

Hannah thankfully stops looking up Brady online and starts watching the game with him. She falls asleep about fifteen minutes later, so Shane is the only one who’s awake when the front door opens and their dad comes shuffling into the hallway.

He glances into the living room and waves at Shane.

“How was work?” Shane asks.

His dad makes a face. “Oh, you know, same old.”

Shane hums. “Good night,” he says, because he sure as hell isn’t asking his dad to sit with them. He almost wants to make a comment about the girlfriend, but he also doesn’t want to start shit right now.

“Good night,” his dad says. He lingers in the doorway for a moment, as if he wants to say something, but he eventually makes his way up the stairs, slowly, like he’d rather walk back out the door.

Shane’s started to nod off when his phone chimes. It’s a bunch of exclamation points from Connor, and then, _i told nick that your sister thinks he’s hot and he got really embarrassed_ with a cry-laughing emoji.

Shane snorts. Hannah twitches but she doesn’t wake up. He can obviously never tell her about this.

He gets a reply from Brady, too, much later, when the Seattle-Calgary game is nearly over. That series isn’t ending today.

Brady sent a picture – he’s in bed with both his dogs, Chewie snoozing with his head on Brady’s thigh, Penny looking at the camera, tongue sticking out. _They’re trying to cheer me up_ , Brady said.

 _is it working?_ Shane asks.

 _They’re very good at it_ , Brady replies.

_good_

_Really not looking forward to packing up the apartment_ , Brady says. _Gonna drive back to Calgary in a couple of days. Where are you right now?_

Shane says, _St. Paul, gotta stay on top of the family drama_.

_Well, if you wanna come by at any point, let me know. I’ll talk to my sister and we can hang out._

Shane takes a deep breath. He could tell Brady that he already has other plans, but he doesn’t and he wants to see him and hang out and he knows he shouldn’t, not even because of the scary-as-shit horses, but also because it’s going to fucking kill him. It’s going to be absolute torture and if Shane was smart, he’d shut this down right now.

He knows he has a crush on Brady. It’s too late to pretend that he doesn’t. If they spend time together, it’s only going to get worse. Shane should be smart enough to understand that, should be smart enough not to put himself in that position.

But sometimes Shane isn’t smart at all, so he says, _yeah i’ll come by whenever is good for you, don’t really have anything going on right now_.

 _Cool_ , Brady says and sends a selfie of him and Penny. It’s mostly Penny, her nose close to the camera. _Someone’s really excited to see you again_.

Shane’s heart can’t fucking take it.

He did that to himself.


	15. Chapter 15

It’s the end of May when Shane heads to Calgary.

He fucked off to Winnipeg after a few days in St. Paul, even though he could have just gone straight to Calgary, but he didn’t want to stick around at home for longer than strictly necessary. His mom wasn’t happy. Shane said he might come by before he needs to head back to Denver for training camp, but he already knows that he won’t. In Winnipeg, he got back on the ice just for fun, played a few pick-up games with a bunch of the local hockey players, but he needs a break, too, so the trip to Calgary is a pretty good idea.

Except he really needs to start thinking about what he’s gonna do about the horses.

He’s on the plane. They’re landing in about ten minutes. He might be able to get around any Shane-and-horse interactions today if he pretends that he’s really tired, but it’s not that huge of a trip and he sure as hell won’t get away with not even getting close to a horse during the next seven days. What the fuck was he thinking when he agreed to stay for a whole week? Brady said it wasn’t a big deal and he wouldn’t even let him pay for the cabin he’ll be staying in and Shane just sort of… went with it.

At the airport in Calgary, Brady’s already waiting for him, greets him with a quick hug and leads him to a vintage truck that’s definitely somebody’s pride and joy. “My mom’s,” Brady says when Shane climbs into the passenger seat and whistles. “I think she loves this car more than any of us. My dad gave it to her.”

“And you’re allowed to drive it?”

“On special occasions.”

“Picking me up from the airport is a special occasion?” Shane asks.

“I mean, yes, but also… my dad had to take the car I usually drive because his is getting fixed and there was literally no other car for me to take. Like, expect my mom to be waiting for us on the doorstep so she can check if the truck is okay.”

Shane laughs.

“She’s making chocolate cake for you, by the way,” Brady says as he very carefully pulls out of his spot. “So I’ll take you to the cabin first, but if you want, we can say hi to my mom after.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Shane says.

Brady takes him away from the city and soon it’s all fields and farms. They pass through a small town and Brady points at a diner he likes, two minutes later it’s, “So, that’s Jeff’s place over there, but he’s not here yet,” when they pass a small renovated farm house, and another few minutes later, he turns right and passes under a sign that reads Spring Hill Ranch.

There are horses on a field on their right.

“So, our house is down that way and so are the stables, and then the cabins and the main guest house are,” he heads to the left when the road splits off, “down here. So, like, you’re not gonna have a car, but I can come pick you up every day and you can walk from your cabin to the main guest house. You can get breakfast there or I can come get you and we can have breakfast at the house. And obviously you can have lunch and dinner over at our house. I’m probably gonna have my car back later. Sound good?”

“Yeah, awesome, thanks,” Shane says. Brady didn’t say anything about meeting any horses, so he’s having a great time. “Where’s Penny and Chewie?”

“Oh, I left them with my mom,” Brady says. “They’re gonna be excited that you’re here. And my sister’s dog is there, too.”

“Love it,” Shane says.

Everything’s great. As long as he doesn’t look at Brady for too long and gives away just how much he wants to rock his world, everything will continue to be great.

Brady takes him past the main guest house and then continues on to a wooden cabin that’s nestled into a patch of trees, small and cozy, flowers blooming in pots outside, a small table with two chairs out front.

“We call this the friends and family cabin. Jeff had like five teammates staying in here last summer,” Brady says as he unlocks it for Shane. “So you’ve got a little kitchen over here, bathroom’s back there, and there’s bunkbeds and there’s a bed in the loft and that couch right there pulls out as well, so there’s plenty of places to sleep.”

“Looks great,” Shane says. There’s a bed in the loft. He gets to sleep up there for six nights.

“There’s a window in the roof.”

“Fuck, this is the best place ever,” Shane whispers.

Brady laughs. “Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“I’m all good.” Shane drops his bag by the door. “Ready to…”

“Eat the chocolate cake?”

“I was gonna say pet the dogs, but both of that sounds great, actually.”

“Also,” Brady says as he hands Shane the keys for the cabin, “there’s all those flyers for all the stuff we’re offering, like the trail rides and hikes and riding lessons and whatever, and obviously you can do those if you want, but also… I can do most of that stuff with you. I’m not, like, an instructor, but I know my way around.”

“Yeah, sure, I wasn’t gonna…” Shane shrugs. He wants to hang out with Brady, that’s why he’s here. To torture himself. “We’ll just hang out with the dogs.” Hang out with the dogs and never get close to a horse ever.

Brady laughs. “Sounds good.”

Shane meets Brady’s mom, who is indeed waiting for them on the doorstep of the house Brady grew up in, waving and coming over to the car to greet them. Brady has the exact same eyes as her. The door flies open a moment later and three dogs and Brady’s niece Dani descend upon them, all of them wanting Shane’s attention.

He ends up at the Rosenbergs’ kitchen table with a piece of the most delicious chocolate cake, Dani talking non-stop, telling him about her favorite horse that she really wants him to meet, because of course this angelic child will be his downfall and will forcibly drag him into the stables.

“I think you might have to take it easy on Shane today,” Brady’s mom says. “He’s had a long day already, so don’t even think about asking him to go on a ride with you.”

Dani pouts and Shane shoots Brady’s mom a grateful look.

“Any experience with horses, Shane?” she asks.

“I’ve never even seen a horse up close,” Shane says.

Brady laughs. “You never told me that.”

Shane shrugs, his cheeks burning hot.

“It’s cool, you don’t have to ride if you don’t want to,” Brady says.

Truly a blessing.

“He at least has to try, right?” Dani says. “My mom always says I at least have to try even if I think I’m not good at it.”

“Your mom has a good point,” Shane mutters and then turns his attention back to his piece of cake, otherwise he might get a panic attack.

“But can I show him Dino?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Danielle,” Brady’s mom says. “We’re done here.”

“Mom, do you need help with dinner?” Brady asks.

“No worries, sweetheart, I’m all set. Your dad will get the grill going once he’s back and we’ll all eat together.”

They end up going outside to play with the dogs, Dani bouncing around them as they throw balls for Chewie, Penny and Dani’s dog Stella.

“So is your entire family gonna be here for dinner?” Shane asks. He’s a little nervous about meeting all these people.

“I mean, not my entire family,” Brady says. “Sarah’s gonna be here. Her husband is a vet and with him it’s sometimes a little… Sometimes he has to take off, so I don’t know if he’ll be here, but you’ll meet him at some point. And my mom and my dad. It’s not gonna be a huge thing.”

“Okay.”

“Relieved?”

Shane laughs. “A little.”

“Don’t worry, they’re all really nice. And my brothers aren’t here yet, which is probably the best news ever.”

Shane raises his eyebrows at him.

Brady laughs. “I like them, but they’re also dicks. Sarah is way more pleasant. But…” He points at Dani. “You have to be careful with the kid, she’s gonna try to rope you into all sorts of stuff while nobody else is listening and, like, don’t be afraid to say no to her.”

“But she’s so cute.”

“I know, it’s horrible,” Brady says and bends down to pet Chewie, who’s come back over to them, clearly done chasing after the ball that Dani is throwing for Stella now, Penny waiting patiently for Dani to pick up her other ball and throw it for her.

Shane bends down with Brady and gives Chewie a belly-rub. Brady’s very close to him right now, kneeling right next to him. His hair is shorter than it was the last time Shane saw him, but it’s still curly and soft and Shane would kill to run his fingers through it. He’s still busy sneaking glances at Brady when Penny comes in from the right and knocks his ass into the dirt.

“Penny, no,” Brady says.

“It’s okay.” Shane doesn’t mind sitting here with a dog slobbering all over him. It’s all good.

Brady grins and flops down next to him. “So, what have you been up to since the end of the season?”

“I went home for some family drama and then I went to Winnipeg.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw some pictures floating around on Twitter. Everything okay with your family, though?”

Shane shrugs. “Not really. I don’t know. It’s not…”

Dani comes bounding over to them, Stella at her heels. “Can we go–”

“Dani, sweetheart, come on inside,” Brady’s mom calls from the house.

Saving Shane yet again. Because Dani was definitely about to ask if they could go hang out with a bunch of horses and Shane isn’t ready. There’s a huge black horse across the field, behind a fence, and that’s close enough. No need to get any closer.

They sit in the field behind the house with the dogs for a little while longer, then they hear tires on gravel and Brady takes him around the house to introduce him to his dad. He’s very tall, just like Shane’s mom, so at least now Shane understands why all the Rosenbergs are so fucking tall. And Brady isn’t even the tallest one. Still a head taller than Shane, but that’s not hard.

He ends up grilling meat and sausages with Brady while Brady’s mom sets the table, Dani helping by distracting the dogs while Brady’s dad checks up on the horses. Brady tells him a little about the ranch, about all the people who work for them, over at the guest house and in the stables.

“We have this one riding instructor, Gabe, who’s really, really… and I mean _really_ good-looking,” Brady says, his face going red, “I mean, like, objectively.”

Shane laughs. “Yeah?”

Brady ducks his head and inspects one of the steaks very closely. “Yeah, we have so many requests just for him, it’s ridiculous.”

“Well, good for you, right? That he’s so popular?”

“Oh, for sure, he’s really nice, too. You’ll probably meet him at some point.”

“Maybe I should put in a request for a lesson.”

“There no way that he’ll have time for you,” Brady says. “He already has to teach every mom in the area how to ride.”

Shane snorts. “Nah, I’d rather hang out with Penny and Chewie anyway. There’s nobody more beautiful than them.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Brady says. He still looks embarrassed. Maybe like he said too much. Maybe like he gave away that he also finds the riding instructor hot.

Shane tells himself to knock it off. Wishful thinking, all of that. Brady does not find the riding instructor attractive. He doesn’t find Shane attractive either. There’s no way that he’d fall desperately in love with Shane during the next seven days, no matter how much Shane daydreams about sitting in a field with Brady, Golden Retrievers bounding around them as Brady confesses his undying love. It’s not gonna happen and Shane seriously needs to chill out, because if his brain keeps going like this, he’ll be really fucking disappointed a week from now. Nothing’s going to happen.

Anyway. Brady is still a hockey player and hockey players are off-limits.

Dinner is nice – Sarah and her husband Dylan arrive just before they sit down to eat and Sarah immediately goes in for a hug, tells him that it’s so nice to meet him and that she’s heard so much about him, at which point Brady groans quietly at his steak.

Sarah winks at Shane. “He was really excited that you were coming,” she whispers. But loud enough that Brady can hear her.

Brady rolls his eyes.

Shane is definitely not thinking about anything right now, and most of all he’s not thinking about how Brady might be desperately in love with him already and was only waiting for him to come here, because he, too, has been fantasizing about making out with Shane in a field.

After dinner, Sarah offers to take Shane back over to the cabins, because she needs to check up on some things at the main guest house, but Brady says, no, he wanted to introduce Shane to Monty and Shane is going to die. This is how he’ll go.

Shane follows Brady outside very slowly, offering to help clean up, but Brady’s parents won’t have any of that and usher them out the door.

“Are you tired?” Brady asks. “I wasn’t actually… Like, obviously we can go say hi to Monty, but I mostly didn’t want you to feel like you had to go with Sarah, because you were nervous about meeting everyone and I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with that, so I just wanted to give you an out.”

“Oh,” Shane says. That’s actually really sweet of him. “Thank you.”

“I’ll introduce you to all the horses tomorrow,” Brady says.

So Shane will die tomorrow. Great.

Something wet touches Shane’s hand and he practically jumps into Brady’s arms with a yelp. “What the– Penny. Hey. Hey, good girl, you scared the crap out of me.”

Brady pats his back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, she just… Fuck.” Shane’s heart is beating _so_ fast right now. “She just surprised me.”

“She wanted to say goodnight.”

Shane gives her a pat.

“I’ll take you back to the cabin,” Brady says. “You’re probably exhausted.”

Shane nods, even though he’s not that tired. He just doesn’t want to hang out with any horses tonight. So when Brady drops him off, with a different truck this time, Shane says, “It’s only nine, you wanna hang out for a bit?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Brady says and gets out of the truck.

They end up sitting on the couch in the cabin and Brady sinks into it with a sigh.

“So you were really excited that I was coming, huh?” Shane says. He’s just chirping him, but his heart is practically screaming, _Please say you were excited to see me!_

Brady groans. “She made it sound like I was talking about you literally every single second of every single day. I was excited, though, because I usually don’t have teammates coming by. It’s weird when you go from team to team, you sort of know everyone, but you never really… I don’t know.”

“That sucks,” Shane says. He can’t say that he knows what it’s like. He’s seen friends come and go, but he was never the one who left. “Have you talked to the Ravens?”

“Yeah, I’m headed… somewhere else next season. I mean, they’d re-sign me, but they can’t offer me a lot and my agent thinks I’d get more somewhere else. Maybe even a deal for more than a year, we’ll see. It sucks because the Ravens are actually a great team, but… on a different team I might crack the third line, you know? Anyway… we’ll see where I end up.”

“The Ravens have a good room?” Shane asks, because… Okay, so the thing with the Ravens is that they’re okay. And that’s it. They’re okay. After they drafted Elliot Cowell they at least started making the playoffs again most seasons, but they were never that good. Never as good as they were in the 70s when they won the Cup twice. And for a while there were rumors that the Ravens’ locker room was terrible to be in. That was maybe two or three years ago, though, so things have clearly changed.

“Yeah, Elliot told me that shit hit the fan two years ago when Barber was their coach. He was a pretty terrible coach apparently and when Elliot talked about him, you could tell that he fucking hated him, but… I guess after the Ravens fired Barber, things got better. I mean, we just made it to the second round and those guys, like, the core guys, you can tell that they’d do anything for each other. Elliot… he helped me a lot when I got to New York. Like, more than he had to.”

“I’ve heard that he’s…” Shane trails off, because Brady’s eyebrows have shot up, like he thinks that Shane’s about to talk shit about his favorite teammate. Shane would never. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say anything bad about him,” he says quickly.

“Yeah, he’s great,” Brady says. “I’m gonna miss him. Anyway…”

“Do you have, like… anywhere you’d really like to sign?”

“I mean…” Brady shrugs. “I’d love to be closer to home, but maybe it’d feel weird playing here. I don’t know. I couldn’t even tell you if Calgary was my first choice if it was an option.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wanna play in Minnesota,” Shane says. “My parents would expect to come over for dinner and spend time with them and– Actually, maybe not, because they’re– Whatever.”

Brady tilts his head.

“It’s not…”

“Hey, it’s cool if you don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No, it’s just… not fun.”

“Family drama usually isn’t,” Brady says. He’s clearly speaking from experience. He stretches out his leg to give Shane a poke with his toe.

Shane sighs. “Apparently my dad, who is still married to my mom, has a girlfriend.”

“Shit,” Brady says.

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“You know what’s even more fucked up?” Shane says. “My mom knows about the girlfriend.”

Brady makes a face. “Are you okay?”

“No, not really. I mean… they’re gonna get divorced, right? My sister thinks they’re just waiting for her to go to college and afterwards they’re gonna…” Shane shakes his head. He hates all of this, but it feels so good to finally talk about it. He thought about calling Connor, but Connor is playing in he Eastern Conference Finals, he has enough on his plate.

“I’m sorry, that’s rough.”

“I just don’t know what to do? Am I even supposed to do anything? Like, they’re my parents and I don’t want them to split up, but I also don’t want them to stay together if they hate each other. Like, this has been going on for a while.”

He remembers Hannah calling him when they still used to argue pretty much every night and now they don’t even talk to each other anymore. They clearly don’t want to be together anymore.

“Like, I don’t know if we’re on hugging terms, but…” Brady shrugs. “If you need a hug…”

Fuck, he really does. So he nods. And Brady scoots over to him and wraps him into the best hug of his life.

It’s a short one, because of course it is, but long enough that Shane can press his face into Brady’s shirt for a few seconds, long enough that he can register that Brady smells really good. A little like grill, too. Which is also not bad, honestly. Brady leaves his hand on Shane’s back for a moment.

“Thanks,” Shane mutters.

Brady pulls him back against him again, quickly, and says, “Hey, how about I come over tomorrow morning and I’ll make you pancakes?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Brady says.

“Sounds good, though.”

Brady nods and gives Shane’s shoulder a squeeze. Shane doesn’t even know what he’s feeling anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

Brady makes him pancakes the next morning.

Shane has never in his life made pancakes, but he’s had them many times. None of them were as good as these. Brady also brought eggs and bacon and hums softly under his breath as he cooks.

“So,” Brady says when they’re done eating, “I told Sarah that I could drop off Dani at a friend’s house and you can come if you want to or I can come back later and we can hang out.”

“I’ll come,” Shane says. Because he wants to spend every single second of every single day with Brady.

They drop off Dani and Brady says he’s taking the long way home to show him around a little. It’s beautiful, all fields, mountains in the distance, a farmhouse here and there. They return to the ranch and Brady takes him back to this family’s house, the dogs approaching to welcome them.

“You wanna go meet Monty?” Brady asks.

Shane was kind of busy petting Chewie. He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers along Chewie’s soft, soft ears, hoping that someone will come to his rescue. But Brady’s mom clearly isn’t home, so Shane eventually has to say, “Sure.”

He can’t say, _I’d rather not_ , right? Anyway, Brady already told him that no one’s expecting him to actually get on a horse, so all Shane has to do is look at Monty, say, _Wow, that’s a nice horse you’ve got there_ , and move on with his life. He can stay out of biting range. And out of trampling range.

So he follows Brady to the stables. He’s feeling jittery. Is he having a panic attack?

The stables are huge.

There’s so many horses. And they’re all huge as well. Brady introduces him to one of the stablehands and Shane forgets his name within half a second because all he can focus on are the horses that are looking out at them. He technically knows that horses don’t just eat people or attack anyone, but they get spooked and then they can for sure kill you. Even though they’re all in their little horse prisons right now and can’t really get him.

Someone comes down the hallway, leading a horse, big and brown, and absolutely terrifying.

“That’s Tanya, she teaches riding lessons,” Brady says and introduces Shane and gives the horse a pat. “Tito’s a great horse, really calm. You know, good for beginners. If you want a lesson.”

“I’m good,” Shane says and takes a step to the right so he’ll be a little further away from Tito.

Brady thankfully doesn’t notice. He says, “It’s okay, it’s not for everyone. Oh, hey, you wanna meet Pumpkin?”

“Uhh…”

Brady grabs him by the arm and pulls him over to a stall that Shane thought was empty, but there’s actually a small horse in it.

“Is that a… baby?”

“She’s a pony, she’s not gonna get any taller,” Brady says.

“Oh,” Shane says and peers down at Pumpkin, who’s actually sort of adorable. Not big enough to trample Shane to death, although she could probably still do some damage if she tried. “Hey, small friend.”

The small friend is unimpressed and they move on. Shane would have loved to stay there, because he can see Monty now and he’s a big boy. Definitely way bigger than he looked in the pictures.

“Hey, bud,” Brady says and gives his horse a pat.

Shane doesn’t ask if Brady should be putting his fingers so close to that horse’s mouth. He probably knows what he’s doing. Shane keeps his distance, though, just in case.

“This is Monty,” Brady says, smiling. He obviously loves that horse. Shane has to be cool about this. “Monty, this is my friend Shane.”

“Hey,” Shane says and waves at the horse.

Brady is clearly biting back a grin. “I’m gonna go get some treats.”

And then he leaves Shane alone with the horse, which is the worst idea ever and Shane is definitely going to cry. “Please don’t eat me,” Shane says to Monty.

Monty is just looking at him. Probably trying to figure out how many meals he can get out of Shane.

“You’re a good horsey. So good, so nice,” Shane whispers.

Monty moves and turns his head and _huffs_ at him and Shane yelps and takes a quick step back, right into something solid behind him. A person, hopefully.

“Hey, you okay?” Brady says.

Okay, he walked into Brady. He takes a step to the right, out of his way. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Shane says. “He just…”

“Moved? Yeah, they do that.”

Shane laughs.

Brady raises his eyebrows at him. “Are you… You’re okay with horses, right?”

“Yeah, sure, totally. They’re… good horses.”

Brady presses his lips together, like he’s trying not to laugh at him. “It’s okay if you’re scared, you know? But… you could have just told me that.”

“I’m not scared,” Shane says.

“Uh-huh,” Brady says, clearly not having any of that.

This is so fucking embarrassing. “I mean, they’re just kinda big up close, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Brady says and reaches out to pet Monty. “He’s really friendly, though, I promise. I’d never put you in front of a horse that would hurt you or anything. You’re totally safe, I swear.”

“Okay,” Shane says. He feels ridiculous.

“I have treats if you wanna give him one, but you don’t have to,” Brady says. “We can go and take the dogs on a walk or something.”

“No, it’s okay,” Shane says, because he’s an absolute buffoon who wants to please Brady by not running away from this horse like a big baby. Brady loves this horse. Shane can, at the very least, give this horse a little pat. “So… Monty.”

“Yeah.”

“He looks like a Dalmatian,” Shane says. Maybe if he pretends that the horse is just a really big dog, he’ll be okay.

Brady snorts. “Yeah, he does.”

“So, does he… like… what does he do all day?”

“When I’m here, I ride him. When I’m not here, somebody else will and they also use him for lessons, because he’s a really chill horse.”

“So he’ll also be chill if I pet him?”

“He will be.”

“Cool,” Shane says and reaches out, not sure where to put his hand.

Brady comes to his rescue and takes his hand, gently guiding him, and Monty just stands there and Shane isn’t even scared anymore, because Brady is touching his hand and he’s going to lose it. “There,” Brady says. “He says you’re his new best friend. And he promises that he totally won’t eat you.”

Shane huffs, his face hot. He can’t believe Brady heard that. “Don’t make fun of me. He’s a big boy.”

“I’d never,” Brady says. He gives Monty a treat and Monty immediately goes sniffing for more. “You wanna give him one?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah?” Brady says. “You just gotta keep your hand flat and you’ll be fine.”

Shane hums. Sounds dangerous. Sounds like he might lose his hand. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Brady says.

Shane snaps a picture of Pumpkin on the way back to send to Connor and afterwards they grab some food from the kitchen and they take off across the small field behind he house, Chewie and Penny trailing after them, and down a path into the woods.

Brady tells him about the ranch as they walk, talks about his sister’s business, talks about his brothers, and Brady clearly loves his family so much and has such a great relationship with them, even though he’s only here in the summer. He in love with this place. He shows Shane where he fell off his horse when he was a kid – “That wasn’t Monty, though, he would never” – and where he broke his arm because he fell off a tree branch and where he caught one of his brothers making out with his girlfriend.

“I usually take Monty down here,” Shane says. “He likes going to the stream.”

“You could have taken him.”

“And you would have walked behind us?”

Shane laughs. “Okay, maybe not the best idea I’ve ever had. I’m sorry, I should have probably mentioned that I don’t know how to ride or anything.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind walking. It’s not that far.”

They wander along on a small path between the trees for about thirty minutes and then come out on the other side. The stream is small, gurgling softly. A squirrel watches them from overhead as they approach, scampering out of sight when they pass. A bird chirps loudly at them, like they’re disturbing the peace.

“When we were kids and we didn’t have the guest house yet, we used to come back here to go swimming. Like, we went skinny dipping.”

“Yeah, that might not be the best idea now with people wandering around,” Shane says.

“No need to scar anyone for life. Jeff doesn’t look that great with his shirt off,” Brady says. “I’m obviously a sight to behold.”

“Obviously,” Shane echoes, makes it sound like a funny joke, even though Brady is totally right. He _is_ a sight to behold.

“But it’s still nice to dip your feet in,” Brady says, drops the bag with the food, spreads out the blanket he brought and immediately takes off his shoes and, for some godforsaken reason, his shirt, and wades into the stream.

Shane follows him slowly, takes off his shoes, puts his phone in them so it won’t get wet, but keeps his shirt on. He’s barely dipped a toe in when Brady splashes him.

“Hey…” Shane splashes him back. The water is nice and cool, and he gets why Brady took his shirt off now, because they’re both close to drenched within minutes.

“Should have brought towels,” Brady says as he gets back out of the water and flops down on their blanket.

Shane follows him and he really tries not to stare, but Brady, all stretched out, with his eyes closed, pearls of water on his chest, is pretty hard to look away from. Shane sits down beside him and stares straight ahead. It’s hot enough that they’ll dry quickly, no breeze ruffling the leaves overhead.

Brady lets out a content sigh.

Shane looks down at him and finds Brady squinting back at him. “You wanna eat right now or just hang for a bit?”

“We can just hang for a bit,” Shane says. He lies back as well and closes his eyes.

Brady hums contently.

The sounds of the steam and the chirping birds slowly lull Shane to sleep, the air warm, but their blanket is in the shade so Shane’s pale ass won’t burn to a crisp. He didn’t even know how desperately needed this break, how badly he needed a chance to just lie around and do absolutely nothing.

He wakes up when he bumps into Brady. He must have moved his arm while he was sleeping. He blinks at Brady, who grunts but doesn’t otherwise complain, and mumbles an apology, just in case. Brady hums back at him. He’s so stupidly attractive, sunlight dancing across his brown skin, freckles on his shoulders and his nose, his eyelashes fluttering a little like he’s about to wake up. And he’s sort of skinny after the season and two rounds of playoffs, but he’s still ripped. It’s not fair.

Brady blinks at him and Shane quickly looks away. But he clearly wasn’t quick enough.

“Are you waiting for me to wake up so we can eat?” Brady says.

Shane laughs. “Yeah,” he says, even though he wasn’t even thinking about lunch. He was thinking about Brady’s abs.

Brady stretches and Shane turns away to grab the bag with the food. They have sandwiches and leftover potato salad from last night and some fruit and two pieces of chocolate cake that Brady’s mom put aside for them.

They stick around for a little while longer, but eventually wander back to the house, help Brady’s mom with dinner and then sit down with the family to watch the Cardinals lose Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals.

Shane texts Connor to tell him that he can call him if he wants to talk to someone and Connor sends back a kissy face a little while later and tells him that he’ll give him a call the next day. He’s headed to his girlfriend’s place.

“You have a friend on the Cards?” Brady asks, because he saw the face Shane was making when the clock ran down. He’s taking Shane back to his cabin, slowly driving down the narrow road to the guesthouse.

“Yeah, Connor… He used to be my roommate and he’s, like, my best friend in the whole world.”

“Aw,” Brady says. “I’d feel bad if the Cards hadn’t murdered us in the second round.”

Shane huffs out a laugh.

“Nah, but… I’ve heard that he’s a nice guy.”

“Yeah, everyone loved him back in Denver, but… he’s clearly doing better in Hartford, I mean, I can tell that he’s happier there. They took a chance on him and it paid off, so I’m really happy for him.”

“You miss him?”

“So much,” Shane says. “He was… I could just tell him everything, you know?”

“Yeah,” Brady says as he comes to a gentle halt in front of Shane’s cabin.

“I mean, I still tell him everything. He’d probably say that I tell him way too much.”

Brady laughs. “It’s good to have a friend like that, though.”

“Oh, for sure. Kinda feel bad for him sometimes, though,” Shane says. “I let him overshare back, but he’s definitely not as terrible as I am. Anyway… Thanks for bringing me over and I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shane says.

Shane gets caught up looking at Brady for a second, his face mostly hidden in shadows, but Shane can see his soft smile.

Brady looks back at him and Shane doesn’t know what the hell is happening, but they’re totally having a moment right now and he can’t stop smiling and Brady isn’t stopping either.

“Good night,” Shane forces himself to say, and that breaks the spell and Brady wishes him a good night back and then Shane gets out of the car and Brady waits for him to get into the cabin and waves before he drives away.

Shane pushes the door shut and lets out a massive sigh.

It’s too fucking much.


	17. Chapter 17

Brady picks him up the next morning and they cook breakfast for the rest of the family and then Dani asks if she can introduce Shane to Dino again and this time nobody comes to Shane’s rescue.

He shoots Brady a look, but Brady only nods, smiling a little. It’s not reassuring at all.

They follow Dani out the door and Brady leans close to him as they walk towards the stables, whispering, “Dani wants this to be a surprise, so act surprised when we get there, but you look freaked out, so I thought you might wanna know that Dino is a donkey.”

“Oh,” Shane says. Not as scary as a horse. Definitely smaller than a horse. That’s a big improvement.

Brady winks at him.

Shane both hates and loves that.

He thinks he’s pretty good at faking surprise and Dani is delighted when she introduces him to Dino. He sends a picture to Connor to cheer him up and Dani instructs him how to pet Dino before her mom calls her from the stables.

“She has a riding lesson,” Brady tells him. “My sister actually used to compete and she has a ton of trophies.” He clears his throat. “So, I was gonna say hi to Monty and you can come, or you can go hang with Chewie and Penny.”

“I’ll come,” Shane says. For what reason, he doesn’t know.

Monty looks just like he did yesterday, snuffling softly, turning his head to greet Brady. “Sup, big guy.”

Shane stays back, makes sure he’s not within biting distance but then Brady holds up a bunch of treats and turns to him.

“You don’t have to,” Brady says.

Shane looks at the treats, then at Monty. He does look kind of chill. But he still has a big mouth. And big teeth. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll show you, okay?” Brady says and gives Monty one of the treats.

Shane needs to stop being such a baby. Monty obviously won’t eat him. But Shane is _sweating_. He holds out his hand. “Okay.”

“You know, you don’t–”

“Just give me one,” Shane says. Facing your fears is important, right? He wants to be bros with this horse. Because he wants to be bros with Brady. And those two things are definitely closely connected.

“Okay, but… give me your hand. Here, hold it flat, like that, don’t move your fingers, there you go.”

Shane holds out his hand and his heart his beating way too fast, but he can do this, he can totally do this, it’s all good, Brady will save him if this doesn’t go well.

He’s totally about to do it, but he can’t, so he pulls his hand away again.

“Give me a second,” Shane says.

Brady does give him a second.

Shane takes a deep breath. “What if he bites me, though?”

“If you keep your hand flat, he won’t,” Brady says.

“What if he bites off my entire hand?”

Brady ducks his head.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing,” Brady says. “It’s just sort of… adorable. You know, that you’re trying so hard. But, seriously, we can just go, you don’t have to hang out here if you’re scared of the horses.”

“I’m not scared.”

“No, you’re just concerned that Monty will eat you.”

Shane holds up his hand. He’s going to do it. Brady just called him adorable and he obviously didn’t mean it _like that_ , but Shane is not backing out now.

It literally takes a second for Monty to pluck the treat off his hand.

And it’s fine. It just tickles a little. He looks over his shoulder to grin at Brady to make sure he saw that Shane did that.

Brady is ginning back at him and hands him another treat.

Maybe Shane can be friends with Monty. Not the other scary horses. But Monty is fine. He didn’t try to bite Shane’s hand off, so he gets a little pat on the snoot and when Monty bends down his head a little, Shane doesn’t jump out of the way and he’s really proud of himself.

“Does Pumpkin get treats?” Shane asks.

“Yeah, probably too many. But we can sneak him one,” Brady says and leads the way.

They spend their days by the stream, walking through the woods with the dogs, sometimes they eat with Brady’s family, sometimes they make food in Shane’s cabin, and Shane is the most relaxed he’s been since before the Hawks won the Cup last season. Last summer wasn’t particularly relaxing.

Wasn’t a bad summer, though. He had a lot to be happy about, all the celebrations, the parade, his day with the Cup. But he barely had time for himself, barely had time to just do nothing at all, because then it was back to training, back to Denver, back to playing hockey. They had their bye week in January, but those five days seemed way too short. Having nowhere to be and nothing to do for an entire week, being able to just lie in the sun without wasting a thought on anything other than what they’ll have for dinner later, has been good for him.

The days blur into each other, pass much too fast. He’s excited to meet up with Connor, but he wouldn’t say no to another week of this either.

Brady probably can’t wait for Shane to fuck off, because then he can finally get back to his life. Brady’s been really nice about Shane not wanting any riding lessons and hasn’t been trying to nudge him into the stables, but Dani hasn’t been going easy on him. She’s been asking Shane to go riding with her every day and every day Brady told her the same thing, that Shane doesn’t have to get on a horse if he doesn’t want to, and every time Shane shot him a thankful look and Brady smiled and Shane had heart palpitations.

It happens a lot.

Mostly when Brady smiles at him. Or when he looks in Shane’s general direction.

He’s dealing with it remarkably well, though. Honestly. He’s only had one awkward sex dream ever since he got here, the day after Brady told him that he once went skinny dipping in the stream and his brothers stole his clothes and he had to walk back to the house, and Shane has spent zero minutes thinking about it. Seriously. Zero minutes. Not a single thought.

Shane can totally contain this crush. He can. He’s so proud of himself. He can be friends with Brady and maybe think about how pretty his eyelashes are when he looks at him every now and then, but it’s fine.

At least until the day before he’s leaving the ranch. He usually texts Brady in the morning to let him know he’s awake and then Brady comes by to pick him up, but this morning Brady replied, _Sorry I’m running a little late today_ , so Shane isn’t expecting him to show up any time soon. Except there’s a knock on his door no five minutes later.

Shane opens it up and there’s Brady and he’s wearing a fucking cowboy hat, and behind him is Monty, munching on some grass next to the cabin.

“Hey,” Brady says. “Sorry, I took Monty out for a ride this morning and I lost track of time.”

“No worries,” Shane says. “I can, like, walk over there or whatever.” It’s not that far of a walk.

“Oh, sure, if you want,” Brady says. “We can walk together.”

Shane frowns at Monty. “What about him?”

“He knows how to walk, too,” Brady says.

Shane rolls his eyes at him and locks the door as he steps outside. “Isn’t he gonna get really confused, though?”

“He’s fine, Shane,” Brady says and grabs Monty’s reins. Monty follows him, clearly unbothered by Brady walking him like he’s a dog or something. Kinda looks like fun, actually.

Brady seems to notice that Shane keeps glancing over his shoulder, because he holds out the reins to Shane, like he would with Penny and Chewie’s leashes.

Shane shakes his head. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“You take it and you keep walking.”

“But what if I do it wrong?”

“Which part? Taking the reins or walking?”

Shane presses his lips together.

Brady grins. “Sorry. I’ve got him, I just thought you might want to.”

“I do,” Shane says. “But I don’t. Like, I don’t trust horses…” He looks back at Monty. “No offense. And, like, I don’t even know what I’m scared of, exactly.”

Brady slows down, Monty coming to a halt with him, considering Shane, who stops a few feet away. “You wanna ride him?”

“What?”

“I mean… There’s people who wanna face their fears like… exposure therapy. I never offered because you said you were scared, but… you know.”

Shane looks at Monty. “Am I allowed to ride him without a hat?”

Brady winks at him. “You can borrow mine.”

Shane cannot deal with that wink. And he still doesn’t like horses. But he sort of… Okay, so the other day he sort of caught himself thinking about how it might not be so terrifying to get on a horse if Brady got on the horse with him and then the fantasy got a little out of control and he saw them galloping across a field, right into the most beautiful sunset, Shane’s arms wrapped around Brady’s waist.

Which obviously won’t happen.

Seriously.

“I don’t even know how to get up there,” Shane says.

“I can show you.”

“What if I want to get back down after like a second?”

“Then I’ll help you down.”

“And then you’ll chirp me for a month?”

“No,” Brady says, completely sincere. “I wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” Shane says and walks up to Monty. Whatever. He’s doing this. Exposure therapy, right? He’s getting on the big, scary horse. “Help?”

It only takes him four tries to actually get on Monty. And… he’s so high up. Monty is being very good and very still, and Shane is fine, totally fine, not freaking out at all.

“Good?” Brady says. “You wanna come down? Or can I start walking?”

“Ehh…”

“Just keep your hands and your feet where they are right now and you’ll be fine. I’m gonna go slowly.”

“Really slowly, please.”

“Sure,” Brady says and starts going, Monty obediently trailing behind him.

Shane is going to die. He’s going to fall off this horse and he’s going to fucking die. This is it. Rest in peace, Shane Wilds, he got on a horse even though he knew better than that.

“Holy shit,” Shane says. “I’m riding a horse.”

“Sort of,” Brady says, smiling back at him as he walks along. “You want my hat?”

“Fuck off.”

Brady laughs and pulls his phone out of his pocket to snap a picture of Shane. “You look great up there.”

“I’m gonna fall off.”

“No, look at you, you’re doing fine.”

Shane makes a sound that’s supposed to tell Brady that he’s not entirely convinced.

“You want me to help you down?”

“I don’t know,” Shane says. He wants to get off Monty on his own terms instead of falling off, but it’s been, like, five seconds. He can stay on the horse a little while longer.

Brady keeps going, walking backwards, so slowly that it’ll probably take them an hour to get to the house, so Shane stays put for another two minutes and then says, “Maybe I should get down so we can go faster.”

“Or I should get up there so we can go faster.”

“Uh…”

“Like, it won’t be super comfortable, but I’ll definitely make sure that you won’t fall off.”

No one’s ever told Shane how to react when his wildest fantasies are coming true. Maybe he’s still in bed, still asleep, maybe this is a dream and they’re about to take off their shirts and they’re going to make out against one of those trees over there. That’s what happened in the awkward dream he had the other day, except they were at the stream and they were completely naked.

“Whatever you want,” Brady says.

“Okay?” Shane says. “Like… as long as I won’t fall off.”

“You won’t. I promise.” Brady nudges Shane’s feet out of the stirrups and then he hands him the reins, like Shane can be trusted with them. “Just hold them, don’t pull or anything.” And a moment later he’s behind Shane, pressed against his back, gently taking the reins and off they go, still slow enough that Shane isn’t totally losing it, but faster than before, way faster than before.

Brady was right, it’s not comfortable.

And Shane is scared shitless.

And he shouldn’t be enjoying a single part of this.

But Brady is so close and warm and he smells really good, so it could definitely be worse. Brady literally has to catch him when he gets off Monty back at the house, because Shane’s legs have gone all wobbly and he really wants to sit down now. Anywhere is good. The ground. Or whatever.

“Hey, if you wanna go inside, my mom’s there and there’s definitely coffee in the kitchen,” Brady says. “I gotta take care of Monty, but…”

“Yeah, sure, you do what you gotta do,” Shane says. He really just wants to sit.

“You okay?” Brady asks.

“Yeah…” Shane nods. “I did that.”

“You did that,” Brady says and smiles. “Are you proud of yourself?”

Shane shrugs. “Yeah?”

“Good,” Brady says and gets back on Monty. Which is kinda hot. Everything Brady does is hot. “You should be.”

Brady’s family makes him a big dinner for his last night at the ranch and afterwards Brady drives him back to the cabin like always.

“Okay,” Brady says when he parks the car, “I brought snacks and four bottles of wine.”

“Four?”

“We don’t have to drink all four,” Brady says, “I grabbed a bunch, just in case. I also have beer.”

“Dude. What else did you bring?”

“Rum. And coke.”

“So we’re getting shitfaced, huh?”

“I mean, you said you wanted a goodbye party,” Brady says.

Shane was sort of joking, but he’s definitely not saying no to this. They sit down on the couch and they get started with the rum, because why the fuck not, and Shane puts on a movie on the tiny TV – some action comedy – while Shane pours a fuckton of rum into their cokes.

They start playing a board game they find on the shelf behind the TV and they eat a ton of chips. Brady brought ketchup-flavored chips and Shane doesn’t remember ever telling him that he secretly loves them and that he buys them whenever he’s in Canada with the team and that he eats an ungodly amount when he’s in Winnipeg for the summer, but Brady seems to figure it out quickly when Shane starts hugging the bag to his chest. Brady lets him have it.

They quickly abandon Trivial Pursuit and start playing Uno.

Brady’s cheeks are turning pink and he hasn’t stopped smiling since he poured himself his second drink. Everything about him is so soft and Shane would really very much like to lie down on top of him and pillow his head on Brady’s chest and play with the strings of the hoodie he’s wearing and close his eyes and take a little nap.

He leans his head back against the couch instead.

Shane’s phone buzzes.

It’s a text from Connor – _I’m in love_ , and a picture of the largest burger Shane has ever seen in his life.

_me too_ , Shane replies.

_with my burger?_

_fucking wish it was just a burger_ , Shane says. “Sorry,” he mumbles and puts his phone down, because Brady is just sitting there, slowly sipping his drink as he waits for Shane to play a card.

“No worries,” Brady says. He’s still smiling.

Shane hits him with a _draw four_ card.

“That’s fucking mean,” Brady says and does take four with a drawn-out sigh.

Shane’s phone buzzes again.

“Team group chat?” Brady asks.

“Oh, no, it’s Connor. He’s in love with a really big burger.”

Brady laughs. “It’s easy to fall in love with a good burger.”

“I should have taken pictures of those bars your mom made.”

“The Nanaimo bars?” Brady shakes his head. “I can’t believe she made those from scratch for you. She usually just buys them.”

Shane is gonna have to find those in Winnipeg. He’s probably seen them at the grocery story and never even considered buying them. “Those were so good.”

“She probably saved some so you can have them tomorrow before we head to the airport.”

Shane smiles. He doesn’t even want to think about leaving tomorrow.

Brady wins the game and Shane flops back with a groan, because he thought he totally had it. He only had three cards left and Brady totally took him by surprise.

“Sorry,” Brady says, his voice really, really soft. “Want a rematch?”

“No, because you’ll win again and I’ll cry.”

“Aw…” Brady squeezes his ankle. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you… more ketchup chips.”

Shane sits up. “Yes.”

“That was easy.”

“Food is the easiest way to my heart,” Shane says.

“That’s good to know.” Brady reaches into the bag he brought over and pulls out a bag of chips. “Actually, have you ever tried all dressed chips?”

“I don’t think so, I always go straight for the ketchup ones.”

“Try them,” Brady says and throws him the bag.

They’re so good.

Shane doesn’t know what it is about Canada and their food, but it’s all so fucking good. “These are mine now,” Shane says.

“I’ll find you another bag for tomorrow.”

“You’re the best.”

Brady’s smiles grows a little broader.

Shane wants to make him smile like that all the time.

It’s midnight when Brady starts yawning. They’ve demolished the all dressed chips – Shane ended up sharing them with Brady – and they’ve had way too many drinks.

“You wanna go to bed?” Shane asks.

“I should head back.”

“You can’t drive. You can… I mean there’s the bunkbeds. And the couch. You should stay.”

Really, he should stay in Shane’s bed, which is another thing Shane might have wasted a thought or two about. Sleeping in that loft with Brady. Pulling him close. Looking out at the night sky through the window in the roof.

“Yeah, I’ll take the couch,” Brady says. “Here…”

They gather up all the Uno cards, Shane turns off the TV and finds Brady a blanket and then walks right into him as Brady turns around, the top of his head smacking against Brady’s chin.

“Aw, shit,” Shane says.

“Sorry, hey, you okay?” Brady says and reaches out to steady him and that’s just too much.

Brady’s hands on his arms? Too much.

Brady smiling down at him with his eyes crinkling just a little? Also too much.

Brady this close, so close that Shane could easily stand on his tiptoes and kiss him? Yeah, way too fucking much.

And then Brady is closer all of a sudden, but Shane didn’t move, which means that it was Brady who moved. Brady leaned in, and Shane’s breath hitches, and then Brady takes a step back, shaking his head a little, and says, “You know what, maybe I’ll just walk back to the house, it’s not–”

“No, no, stay here,” Shane says. “Just… sleep. We should both sleep.”

“Yeah. Right. Okay.”

“Okay,” Shane echoes and quickly steps away, nearly tripping twice on his way up to the loft.

He gets into bed, curls into a ball, but he can’t sleep.

He goes over what just happened again and again, trying to figure out what the hell that was all about. And the more he thinks about it, the less sure he is if it was Brady who leaned in closer or if Shane was just imagining it, or if it was him.

What if he gets up tomorrow and Brady won’t look him in the eye? What if he messed everything up?

He sneaks back downstairs to go to the bathroom a little while later. Brady’s curled up on the couch. Shane can’t tell if he’s asleep. He goes back to bed and stares at the ceiling.

He texts Connor. _i might have done something stupid_.

Connor doesn’t reply.

Hardly surprising. It’s the middle of the night.

Shane falls asleep at some point.

In the morning he wakes up to the clatter of pots of pans and the smell of coffee. Shane pads down the stairs in the shirt and the boxers he slept in and finds Brady down in the small kitchen, cracking eggs and carefully putting bacon into a pan. He must have left to get food and come back without Shane even noticing.

“Hey,” Shane says.

Brady glances at him. “Hey.”

Shane stares at him for a moment, like that’s going to make things less awkward. “Can I help?”

“No, I’ll just…” Brady shrugs. “You want coffee?”

Shane nods and pours himself a cup, adds a ton of milk and sugar, and leans back against the counter, not sure if he should say something about last night. Because it looks like they’re pretending that nothing happened.

Well. It’s true. Nothing happened. Something nearly happened, but nothing actually did. So maybe it doesn’t matter.

They were both drunk, so fuck knows if Shane just… wishful-thought his way through last night. So he’ll keep his mouth shut. Maybe Brady will say something and if he doesn’t, Shane will know where he’s at.

Brady isn’t weird around him, takes him over to the house so he can say goodbye to Penny and Chewie, Dani hugs him goodbye and gives him a friendship bracelet in Hawks colors, beaming when he thanks her, Brady’s mom and dad both wish him good luck for the next season and then Brady takes him back to the airport.

He hugs Shane goodbye.

He tells him to stay in touch.

And that’s it.

So whatever happened last night clearly didn’t mean anything.

That’s fine.

Totally fine.


	18. Chapter 18

His week with Connor goes by even faster than his week with Brady. They head down to Florida and spend literally every day at the beach, sipping cocktails and eating way too much food. It’s great. Connor promises he’ll come visit him in Winnipeg at some point during the summer, too.

Shane can tell that Connor’s bummed out about the Conference Finals loss.

He tries to be a good friend and not make everything about him the second they meet up at the airport, but Connor knows him better than anyone else in the world, so it’s over dinner that he says, “Okay, now tell me what you’ve been wanting to tell me ever since we got here.”

Except Shane can’t, because they’re in public. Okay, they’re in Florida and there isn’t that big of a fanbase down here – the team from Sunrise got relocated a couple of years back and is now in Milwaukee. They’re talking about relocating the franchise again. It’s not going well for them. Still. Shane is not going to talk about his Extremely Gay Fantasies at a seafood restaurant with a shitton of people eating lobster around them.

He tells Connor when they’re back in their hotel room.

Connor doesn’t judge him. Or if he does, he does it quietly. He lets Shane tell him the story of when he got super drunk and nearly kissed Brady and doesn’t stop him when he tells it again, with some added detail, and lets Shane lament about how he has no idea what the fuck was going on there for half an hour and then tucks him in and tells him that he can always talk to Brady about it in that very Connor way of his.

Shane laughs at him and pulls the sheets up over his face.

Talk to Brady.

Yeah, right.

“I can’t believe you got on a horse for him,” Connor says before Shane falls asleep. “You really like him, huh?”

“No, he’s the least attractive person I’ve ever met in my life. And he isn’t nice either.”

Connor snorts.

“I hate him. And his one dimple.”

“There, there,” Connor says and throws a pillow at him, which is very helpful of him.

Shane resurfaces from under the sheets. “Do you think he wanted to kiss me?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if he wanted to kiss me?”

Connor sighs. “What about the no kissing hockey players rule?”

“I know,” Shane says. “I probably… I mean, I would have kissed him. And then I would have told him that I can never kiss him again.”

“Right.”

“I totally would have.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck,” Shane says and goes back under the sheets. He would have done nothing of the sort. He would have kissed Brady and then he would have kept kissing him and would have tried to figure out at what point they could kiss again and if there’s a chance of them kissing whenever they see each other.

Why the fuck did he even make a rule about never hooking up with hockey players?

Okay, he knows why. Because most of them are straight and off-limits. Because players get traded. Because when you’re in a relationship, you sometimes fight, and you sometimes break up. And if Shane doesn’t even know how to deal with running into his ex at the grocery store, he sure as hell wouldn’t know how to deal with playing on the same team.

So that’s why.

But, honestly? He might make an exception for Brady. Really. He might.

It’s good to be back in Winnipeg. It’s good to have more time. His regular summer crew, Whits and Cally, are back and they share the same trainer like every year and meet up for on-ice sessions at the rink. He works hard, but unlike last season he actually feels like the hard work is getting him somewhere. Last summer he constantly felt like he was running out of time, constantly felt exhausted, constantly wanted to lie down and never get up again.

This year he gets to have a few lazy days in between.

Sometimes he’ll just go for a run in the morning and do nothing productive for the rest of the day. The kids in his uncle’s street love it, because when he gets bored in the afternoon, he plays street hockey with them. The kids ask him if he’ll sign with the Falcons. They try to bribe him. One of them invites him over for dinner. Shane declines but gives the kid his stick to take home.

He has dinner with his uncle instead. Eddie, once a forward for the Falcons, now coaches a junior league team and helps out at the rink that’s ten minutes away where the team practices. He’s one of the owners and he was the reason Shane started playing hockey in the first place.

“How’s everything going at the rink?” Shane asks as Eddie starts throwing steak and corn on the grill.

“Are you asking because you kids broke the glass yesterday? We fixed it.”

“Cally’s gonna pay for it.”

Eddie laughs and swats at him with the tongs. “I know. He signed some stuff for the kids who came in for the hockey camp. Had to apologize for cutting into their ice time because the glass had to be replaced.”

“You got a lot of kids at the camp?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Lots of girls, too. More than last year.”

Shane nods. “Good.”

“They just need to start paying them better, eh?” Eddie says. “I mean, it’s changed a lot, and they’re doing a lot more, too… They had a Girls’ Night last season. And I know some of it is league-wide, but…” He shrugs. “When I was still playing, we didn’t do much of that.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of cool stuff going on,” Shane says.

Eddie nods. “I’m glad.”

“A lot of people don’t like it.”

“Oh, whatever you do, there’s always gonna be someone who doesn’t like it.”

“Yeah, I mean… if it helps people, I don’t see what’s wrong with it,” Shane mumbles. He’s never really talked about anything like that with Eddie, but he’s seen Eddie in a You Can Play shirt, so he probably agrees.

“For sure,” Eddie says. “Those Pride Nights and whatnot?” He pokes at the corn. “There’s more than enough kids out there who need to see that. We never had anything like that and… Well, it was a different time.”

Shane chews on his bottom lip. “Did you ever have… a gay teammate?”

Eddie considers their steaks for a moment. “I mean, yeah… probably. But we didn’t talk about it, you know? I guess maybe these days you could tell your teammates, because things are different, but back when I was still playing…” Eddie shakes his head.

Shane only hums in reply.

He read about this player from Europe who came out not too long ago. He’s already retired, but reading about how that guy felt in the locker room, how hard it was for him… Shane closed the article without finishing it. He’s never even considered coming out, not even after he’s done playing, at least not in an official capacity. He thought about it sometimes, when he was still with Toby, wondering if maybe, when he’s done, when it wouldn’t affect his career anymore, he could just say fuck it and marry Toby. He thought about it a lot, what their wedding would be like if they could get married, and then Toby fucked off and it wasn’t an issue anymore.

Shane fiddles with his phone, wondering if he could get away with asking another question, but in the end he just says, “You know how some teams are adopting dogs that’ll be, like… service dogs?”

“I bet you’d like one of those in Denver,” Eddie says.

“Maybe next season.”

Eddie laughs. “You know, I’ve been thinking about getting another dog. Helen isn’t sure about it, but if I put a puppy under the Christmas tree…”

“I wish someone would put a puppy under my Christmas tree.”

“You gotta find a girlfriend first,” Eddie says. “Someone’s gotta watch that dog while you’re on the road.”

Shane ignores the girlfriend comment. He’s gotten pretty good at it, doesn’t even react to it anymore. His parents have asked him if he’s seeing anyone, his sisters too, but Shane doesn’t live close to home, so he can make up girls he’s dating and then claim he broke up with them, or they broke up with him, which is probably more realistic. Jen thinks he must be a terrible boyfriend. Hannah thinks he’s too picky. “There’s dog sitters,” Shane says.

“For when they’re bigger maybe,” Eddie says. “Or you can get one at a shelter.”

Shane hums. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s waiting for, because he’s always wanted a pet, but it never feels like the right time. Now Michael’s moving in with him, so if he wants to get a dog, Michael has to be on board with it.

“Hey, one of these days you should drop by during camp. Kids would love it.”

“I’m not as exciting as Cally, though,” Shane says. Cally plays on the hometown team, everyone knows him. Shane plays for the enemy. Some of those kids might have never even heard of him.

“Eh, you’re a hockey player and you won the Cup last year, I think that’s exciting enough for them.”

Shane grins down at his feet. Yeah, sometimes he forgets that he’s actually pretty good at what he does.

Shane likes watching the Draft, because he gets to see the kids he’ll play with in a couple of years and he remembers getting drafted so well, the excitement of it all, the relief when someone actually wanted him on their team.

He only listens with half an ear at first, because the actual Draft doesn’t start until half an hour from now, but then the Hawks are mentioned and Shane turns up the volume.

“–will have some decisions to make during the next two years. There are some key players that the Hawks will want to re-sign as soon as possible.”

“First in line would be captain Konstantin Orlov.”

“Yes, along with Robert Walters and Lucas Ahlberg, who will be free agents at the end of next season. The season after they’ll have the Wilds and Fuchs contracts–”

Shane turns off the volume. He doesn’t need to hear the rest.

He knows that the Hawks will likely have trouble re-signing all of them and they’ll need to make some sacrifices. They have good goaltenders in the minors who might be ready for the NHL in two years, which would put Luke on the chopping block. They have young forwards just waiting for their turn. Those would be cheaper than… Shane. Or Michael. There’s no way they’re letting Orlie go. Obviously.

Shane grabs the bag of chips he was saving for the actual Draft.

He doesn’t live in constant fear of getting traded, is reasonably sure that the Hawks will want to re-sign him, but hearing those announcers talk about it is really fucking with him. He wants to stay in Denver with his guys. They won the Cup together, they can do it again.

He grabs his phone to text Connor to distract himself and nearly drops it because it starts ringing right when he picks it up.

It’s Brady.

“Hey?” Shane says. They’ve been texting. Not a lot, but steadily, the way they do during the season. Mostly because Brady keeps sending him pictures of Chewie and Penny. And Monty.

“Hey, you have a minute?” Brady says. “I know you said you were gonna watch the Draft, but it’s not gonna take long, I promise.”

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“So, I just got off the phone with my agent and, like… this isn’t official yet, I can’t sign until the first when I’m actually a free agent, but I figured you can keep a secret.”

“Uh, yeah, definitely,” Shane says. “You’ve got some offers?”

“Yeah, two I’m considering. The Ravens made an offer and I’d actually love to stay, but… the other teams are offering way better terms, so…”

“That sucks.”

“It’s okay, the other ones look pretty good to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, so… I’ll probably come to Denver next season.”

“You…” Shane almost throws his phone across the room. “You’re… signing with the Hawks?”

“Probably, yeah,” Brady says. “They’re offering two years and I’m not gonna say no to that.”

“Nice,” Shane says. “Cool. Yeah, that’s… good. Great.”

“I just figured I’d tell you, because…”

Because they almost kissed in the summer and Shane needs the warning so he won’t get a heart attack when all the free agent signings are announced on July 1st?

“Well, it’s nice to have a friend on the team already,” Brady goes on. “So I guess we can go to the Grill together and stuff.”

“Yeah, totally,” Shane says. He’s so proud of himself for still sounding this excited when he’s about to have a nervous breakdown.

Brady? On his team? Brady, the guy he nearly kissed just a few weeks ago. He’ll see him pretty much every day. Every single fucking day. Shane is for sure going to die. Like, three days into training camp probably. He says that a lot, but this time it’s for real.

“Don’t tell anyone, though. It’s a secret,” Brady says.

“No, no, I won’t say a word,” Shane says. “What was the other offer?”

“Oh, uh… Seattle. They offered two years, too, but the Hawks are offering an extra hundred thousand, so, you know…”

“Yeah, yeah, that… makes sense. Yeah.” Shane clears his throat. “Well, welcome to the team, I guess. Unofficially.”

Brady laughs. “Thanks.”

Fuck, Shane is so glad that he already asked Michael to move in with him, because if he hadn’t, he might offer the spare room to Brady right now and that would be the most terrible idea he’s ever had in his life. Having Brady on the team will be hard enough.

Shane had a crush on one of his teammates in his freshman year in college and it was absolute torture. Akira was one of their alternate captains and he was so nice to Shane and shared his snacks with him and helped him with his homework when Shane felt like he couldn’t possibly get around to finishing all of it and Shane had the biggest crush ever. He obviously never said anything and then Akira graduated and Shane was finally free again.

He sure as hell hopes that it won’t be as bad with Brady.

Fuck, maybe it’ll be even worse.

“Well,” Shane says, “tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“Thank you. I’m lucky because the road trip with the dogs is gonna be way shorter this year. Anyway, I’m gonna let you watch the Draft now and… I guess I’ll see you in September.”

“Yeah,” Shane says, “see you in September.”


	19. Chapter 19

Shane gets back to Denver two days before Michael. He needs to actually be there when his new roommate arrives. He buys groceries, for himself, but also so Michael doesn’t think he’s a savage who only orders takeout. Which he was for a while. And he still goes to the Grill way too much.

It’s basically the first thing he does when he gets back to Denver. He gives Robbie a call and off they go for steak and fries. And a milkshake. The season hasn’t started yet and they haven’t seen each other in ages. They were in touch during the summer, sent texts, called each other a few times, but Shane never mentioned Brady and he’s not mentioning Brady now because he already embarrassed himself enough when he told Connor about it.

Shane will spend the next four days preparing himself to see Brady again. And to act like nothing awkward happened in the summer. Like everything’s fine and all the feelings Shane has are super friendly and not crush-like in the slightest.

They talked the other day, just before Shane flew down from Winnipeg, and Brady told him about the little house he found that has a fenced-in backyard and how happy the dogs are going to be and Shane checked where the house is, like an absolute creeper, and it’s the same neighborhood where the rookies lived last season. It’s close. Close enough to quickly pop by and pet a dog or two. And, like, see Brady. And… look at him.

Fuck’s sake.

Shane’s glad when Michael finally arrives – he goes and picks him up at the airport that afternoon, him and his ten thousand bags, but Michael drops everything he’s holding to give Shane a crushing hug in the middle of the airport.

“I brought you things from Germany,” Michael says, gleeful, as they walk to Shane’s car.

“I… did not bring you things from Winnipeg,” Shane says, “but I carried all your boxes up to your room and I bought bagel bites.”

Michael laughs. “We’ll hide the bagel bites when my mom comes.”

“Oh, when is she coming?” Shane asks. Michael’s mom is really nice. And she makes good food.

“Well, I was going to talk to you about it first,” Michael says. “Like, for how long can she stay? Because she’ll… I’ll let her sleep in my room and I’ll sleep on the couch or something. And if your family is coming for Christmas–”

“They’re not.”

“Are you sure?”

“They’re for sure gonna go to Jen’s house, it’s way easier for everyone and I, like… don’t invite them. Anyway, my parents are having… issues. And I don’t know what’s gonna happen, so your mom can come whenever she wants.”

Michael looks at him like he’s definitely not sure if he should ask what’s up with Shane’s parents or not.

Shane puts him out of his misery and says, “Don’t even ask, it’s a mess.”

“Okay. Well, if you want to talk about the mess…”

Shane nods. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He’s mostly angry about it now that he’s had time to think about it, because the whole thing is fucked up and their parents are acting like none of them noticed and then there’s his dad’s girlfriend, which is the most fucked up thing of them all.

Back at Shane’s they order pizza and put on a movie and they each have their spot on the couch and it doesn’t feel like Michael is replacing Connor. He thought it might, but it’s different. He doesn’t feel guilty about having Michael as his new roommate. It’s nice that it’s not just him anymore and hanging out with Michael is so easy, because he already knows Shane’s biggest secret and he said yes to moving in anyway, because he literally doesn’t care if Shane’s gay or straight. He doesn’t have to worry the same way he had to worry when he told Connor. That could have gone so fucking wrong, because they were already living together and Connor might have started acting weird around him afterwards. He didn’t, because Connor’s a decent human being, but you never know.

This is different. He already got the hard part out of the way.

“Tell me how much I owe you for… you know… the rent and the electricity bill and the internet and all that,” Michael says. “I just showed up and it’s like I’m… I don’t properly live here yet.”

“No, you totally do. Also, you paid for the pizza.”

“Because the pizza totally cost the same as half your rent?”

“Eh, it’s fine, but yeah, I’ll write it all up for you.”

“Good.” Michael grabs another slice of pizza. “And you should know that it’s not a good idea to talk to me really early in the morning. I’ll grumble.”

Shane laughs. “We can grumble at each other.”

He does remembers Michael’s tragic face from early flights, his grumbling over breakfast on the road. Shane gets it, he’s not a morning person either. If he has to get up when it’s still dark outside, he cries.

Shane grabs another slice off pizza, too. “We should talk about, like, ground rules, though,” he says. It’s not like he has a 100-item list of rules, but there’s some shit he just can’t deal with.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Don’t steal my food.” Shane grins. “Or, like… feel free to steal my food in general, but my leftovers are off-limits.”

“That’s a good rule,” Michael says.

“And… Okay, so I used to live with Connor and he was so fucking messy and it drove me nuts and you can’t be worse than him, but also…”

“Don’t be messy?”

“At least don’t let food grow legs in the fridge and don’t leave your socks on the couch.”

Michael looks vaguely appalled, so that’s good news for Shane. “Anything else?”

“Uh…” There’s probably other stuff Shane should mention, but the worst thing about living with Connor was that he kept leaving his socks everywhere and that he ate Shane’s leftovers and everything else isn’t that big of a deal. Everyone does annoying stuff, but some of it is way easier to deal with than others.

“Tell me if you think of anything else,” Michael says.

“I mean…” Shane looks down at the pizza carton, not sure if he should even mention it. “This is not really relevant right now, because I’m not seeing anyone, but… when I was still living with Connor and he invited people over to hang out, he’d usually let me know thirty minutes in advance just in case Toby was here. Because then we just went to Toby’s place or whatever. But I’m not seeing anyone right now, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, if you do start seeing someone, I’ll definitely let you know when I invite anyone over.”

Shane nods. “Thanks. And, like, right now it honestly doesn’t matter. Just don’t invite Gunner.”

Michael makes a face.

“And obviously, if you wanna like… I mean, feel free to invite whoever you want otherwise. Like, girlfriends, or… hook-ups if that’s your thing. I don’t judge, honestly.”

Connor had a girlfriend for a while and she was here sometimes, but Connor often went to her place or took her out for dinner or to the movies. And it’s not like Shane couldn’t do those things with Toby, but they couldn’t do them _properly_ and he was jealous as fuck.

Michael looks back at him for a moment and fiddles with the bottle of water he’s holding. Eventually, he sighs and says, “I should tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t laugh,” Michael says, voice soft.

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because… people have laughed when I tried to tell them. But you told me you’re gay, so I’ll tell you. You trust me and I trust you.”

Shane nods.

Michael leans back against the couch. “So, I’ve never really…” He shrugs. “I’m not attracted to people like that.”

“Like… what?”

“Like, I don’t care about sex. I actually… I’d rather not sleep with anyone. Like, I never understood why people were so crazy about sex and were acting like they couldn’t go without it for more than a few weeks or whatever. It never mattered to me.”

“Oh, okay,” Shane says. He knows that it’s a thing. He doesn’t know much about it, though, but he’s seen asexual awareness stuff at Pride and online, so it’s not entirely foreign to him.

“So don’t worry about that,” Michael goes on. “I don’t think I’ll… People aren’t usually into relationships without sex.”

“I’m sure that’s not–”

“No, believe me, I’ve…. I’ve been there. And it never works out. I mean, would you give up sex? Just like that?”

“I… don’t know. I guess? I mean, if it’s someone important, like…”

Back when he was still with Toby and he didn’t yet resent him for leaving him for the accountant, Toby could have told him that he doesn’t want to sleep with him and Shane would have given up sex for him in a heartbeat. Honestly. He was so fucking in love with Toby, he wouldn’t have cared at all.

“Really?” Michael asks.

“Really,” Shane says.

Michael is quiet for a moment, but they’re clearly not done with this conversation. “You know,” he says after a minute, “I’ve never really talked about this with anyone. Usually, when I try, people think it’s… they either say I just wasn’t into the people I slept with or they say I’m just too scared to admit that I’m gay. And I’m not.” He sighs. “Obviously being gay is not a bad thing. But that’s not what I am. And it’s… I don’t know, I feel weird talking about it, because what if people…”

“What if they take it the wrong way? Or don’t support you?”

Michael glances at him. “Has that happened to you?”

“I mean, I’ve told, like, three people that I’m gay and they were all good with it, but I know that… My dad is really conservative and he just wouldn’t take it well. I don’t know about my mom, she might be okay with it, but fuck knows. My younger sister would be fine with it, but not my older one, so it’s… What I’m saying is, I understand why you wouldn’t wanna talk about it. You just never know.”

“Yeah,” Michael says.

“Thanks for telling me, though,” Shane says. “I know what the guys can get like.” It’s particularly bad on the road. He knows for a fact that one of his teammates cheats on his wife at least once every road trip and it’s none of Shane’s business, but it makes him so mad. And all the single guys are so desperate to hook up with girls all the time, and it’s not like it’s hard for them, because they’re hockey players and a lot of them make a few million each season, but Shane hates the expectation that you’re supposed to hook up with girls left and right.

“It’s annoying,” Michael says. “I just don’t want to, but then guys like Gunner call me gay in front of everyone and…”

“I’m sorry.”

“I really don’t want this to sound like being gay is a bad thing.”

“No, I get it,” Shane says. “It’s like someone’s calling you Marcus, but your name’s fucking Michael.”

Michael laughs, but he gets serious again a moment later. “Why can’t people just mind their own business?”

“Fuck knows,” Shane says. “Would make things easier.”

“Yeah. At least we can talk.”

Shane smiles at him.

He’s lucky. He’s lucky, because he already has Connor and Robbie, and now the universe gave him another person that he’s so, so happy to know.

Shane won’t lie, though, it’s weird to have someone in the house again. He’ll go to bed and he’ll hear the noises of someone else moving around the house – he’s not surprised that Michael’s not a morning person, he goes to bed late as hell. It’s luckily not a thing Shane cares about, because he can fall asleep literally anywhere without any problems whatsoever.

They’ll eventually start heading to the rink for informal skate before training camp starts officially, but they still have a few days of absolutely nothing to get settled in again, the other guys slowly trickling in as well.

It’s so of funny when you start living with someone you’ve known for a while, because you think you know them, but the more time you spend together, the more you learn about each other. And it’s not always bad stuff.

Michael sings when he does the dishes. Hits of the 80s. When he cleans up after dinner he sings ‘Karma Chameleon’. It’s cute.

And Michael is definitely in love with the black fuzzy blanket that Connor brought when they moved in together. He didn’t take it when he moved to Hartford and it looks like the blanket is Michael’s now. Another thing is that Michael sleeps in nothing but his boxers. Which Shane finds out the next morning. When he walks into the kitchen. And Shane’s still in pajamas, too, it’s not like he was expecting Michael to be fully dressed, but Michael’s in boxers. Just boxers.

“Um,” Shane says.

“Good morning,” Michael says.

“You…” Shane blinks at him. “Good morning?”

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks.

“Nothing?”

“Why does everything you say sound like a question?”

“I don’t know?”

“Spit out the problem, Wilder.”

“That’s not how you say that.”

Michael waves him off.

“You’re very…” Shane shrugs. Naked. Okay, _almost_ naked. “It’s fine.”

Michael tilts his head. “You want me to put on a shirt?”

“No.”

“You’re uncomfortable?”

“No. I just… Aren’t you?”

“Why?”

“I’m gay.” And it’s not like Shane is going around ogling his teammates or anything. If anything, he tries not to look too long at anyone in a locker room, but it sort of took him by surprise that Michael’s this comfortable around him. Other guys probably wouldn’t be.

And it’s… nice?

It’s like Michael literally doesn’t care. Doesn’t give a single shit. He’s not like, _Oh no, my roommate is gay, so I have to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to look at me ever, so he won’t have a chance to find me attractive_. Being around all that _no homo_ bullshit all his life has sort of screwed up Shane’s expectations. Not that Connor was like that, but Shane thought Connor was a fluke.

“I know that you’re gay,” Michael says and turns back to the eggs and bacon he’s making.

“You’re gonna get hot grease on your abs and you’ll cry,” Shane says.

Michael turns back around with a grin. “Oh, so you’ve noticed my abs?”

“Fuck off,” Shane says and goes to peer into the fridge.

“I’m making eggs and bacon for you, too,” Michael says. “Say that I’m the best roommate ever.”

“Just as good as my other best roommate ever,” Shane says, because he can’t say Michael’s better than Connor. The guilt would kill him. “And you have abs, which is very impressive.”

“The abs really speak for me.” Michael pats his stomach. “I worked hard on these.”

“Did you benchpress your cow?”

“No, but she was very encouraging,” Michael says and grabs his phone from the counter. “She cheers for me.” He holds out his phone to show Shane a picture of his cow with a Colorado Hawks flag draped over her. Michael’s standing next to her in the picture and… she’s a pretty big cow. Are all cows that big? Maybe they are.

“She’s big.”

“Of course she’s big, she’s a cow.” Michael puts down his phone and grabs two plates. It takes him two tries to find them. “You can visit her next summer if you want.”

“Germany sounds like fun.”

“Because my mom will make you Schnitzel?”

“Yeah,” Shane says. “And you have beer.”

“Even better, we have _good_ beer.” Michael hands Shane a plate with eggs and bacon on it.

The scrambled eggs look like they would at a restaurant.

“Something wrong?” Michael asks. “I can make you eggs with…” He waves at the egg carton. “Sun on the upside or whatever.”

“Sunny side up, and nah, these are great, I’m actually… How did you make these?”

“The way Gordon Ramsay said on Masterchef.”

Shane narrows his eyes at him. “What else can you do?”

Michael only grins and wanders away with his food. Shane kinda hit the roommate jackpot, didn’t he?


	20. Chapter 20

Brady texts him when he gets to Denver. It’s a picture of the dogs in a house with sparse furniture, Penny looking at the camera, Chewie on the floor like he’s given up on life, and _home sweet home_.

 _welcome to denver!!!_ Shane replies and immediately worries that he used too many exclamation points. Like, what if Brady thinks that Shane is a little too excited to see him? That he’s still thinking about what nearly happened several months ago? Which would be super pathetic. It was pretty obvious that they made the – silent – decision to never speak of it again and forget it ever happened. He adds, _tell penny & chewie I say hi!_

Only one exclamation point.

Like a moderately excited person.

Brady replies about ten minutes later, tells him that he’s going straight to bed but that they should hang out soon.

Shane stares at his phone.

And stares at his phone.

And then stares a little more.

He fucking can’t. Obviously he wants to hang out with Brady, but he also wants to hold on to his last shred of dignity. He still needs to be polite, though. Brady was excited about coming here because he already had a friend on the team, so Shane needs to be his friend and can’t be a dick to him just because he can’t control this crush. Admittedly, he calmed down a little bit over the rest of the summer, but his heart still skipped a beat every time he got a text from Brady. He still _likes_ him.

Shane can tell himself that he needs to stop however much he wants, it’s just not going to happen. He’ll have to deal with it somehow. And he absolutely cannot ever look in Brady’s direction in the locker room. Shane will not ever be that person. He hates that this is awkward now. Because being totally stupid about Brady from afar was sort of okay, but now he’s gonna be totally stupid about Brady from up close, like, he has a front row seat to his own demise, and it’s killing him.

 _Let’s hang out soon_ , Brady said, _you know, when I’m not fucking dead_.

 _I can’t tomorrow_ , says Shane, which is a blatant lie, _but I think we’ll have ice time the day after so maybe we can go grab lunch after?_

And maybe he can talk Michael into coming along and it won’t be as awkward, and then Brady can make another friend and, hey, Shane should invite the whole crew, Robbie and Luke and maybe Oreo if he promises not to be an obnoxious dick, and there’ll be no way for them to be awkward around each other.

Shane is a genius.

 _Sounds good, nighty night_ , Brady says.

Shane totally tries not to think about Brady, all snuggled up in bed, warm and cozy, sheets tucked around him. He does think about it, though.

He sighs. He really misses falling asleep next to someone. Not the part where you get kicked in the shin or when an arm hits you in the face or when someone steals the covers, but the part where you’re close to someone and you hold them and they trust you and you can sort of feel their heartbeat and and it feels… safe.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks.

“Nothing.”

“Your face says that you’re having a crisis.”

“I just…” He shakes his head and locks his phone. “Personal shit, don’t worry about it.”

Michael looks at him for a moment, then he nods and plops down next to Shane. Michael puts on Masterchef, looking at Shane like he’s asking if he’s pleased with the choice, and Shane nods and grabs the stuffed IKEA dog that Brady sent him.

“That’s cute,” Michael says.

“Right?”

“We have a dog at home, did I ever tell you?”

Shane sits up. “You have a dog?”

“He’s a black lab and we’ve had him for a long time. Ten years. He’s an old man.” Michael grabs his phone and shows Shane a picture of a black dog lying in the sun, a small orange cat sleeping next to him.

“And you have cats?”

“We have five. This one’s the only one that really gets along with the dog.”

“Wow, they’re great.”

Michael smiles down at the picture. “You can meet them next summer.”

“And Resi.”

“Yes, of course. Maybe I’ll manage to teach you how to pronounce her name until then.”

Shane elbows him in the ribs. But gently.

It’s only been about twenty-four hours, but so far he honestly loves living with Michael.

“You wanna go do stuff tomorrow?” Shane asks. Because he told Brady he was busy and now he needs to actually find a reason to be busy, so it wasn’t a lie. “We could go to the movies or something.”

“And we’ll go out for dinner,” Michael says. “You’re paying.”

Shane snorts. “Okay.”

The next morning, he finds Michael in the kitchen again, once again shirtless, but this time with an apron. He’s making omelettes. For both of them.

“I’m protecting the abs,” Michael says and points at the apron.

“So proud of you,” Shane says. “Are you gonna make me breakfast every morning?”

“Not when we have to get up early. Then I’ll just grumble at you.”

“Like… I totally appreciate it, but also… don’t feel like you have to?” Shane says. Because he doesn’t cook much. So the best he can do is order food for Michael when he’s getting takeout.

“I like making breakfast,” Michael says. “Tell me if there’s anything you don’t like, though.”

“Raisins.”

“I won’t put raisins in your omelette, then,” Michael says and sings ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go Go’ as he continues to cook.

Shane sort of wants to hug him, but now is probably not the time. They pick up Michael’s rental car later that morning, then they hang out at home for a while, Michael on the phone with his mom, speaking softly in German, and in the evening they head out for dinner to a place Michael likes. Afterwards they watch a movie and Michael buys candy because he doesn’t want Shane’s nasty American popcorn. He does steal a few handfuls during previews, though.

On the drive home, Shane says, “So, we have ice time tomorrow. Are you gonna go?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“We can go together,” Shane says. “And I was gonna grab lunch with Brady afterwards if you wanna join us.”

“Brady Rosenberg?”

“Yeah. Do you know him?”

“I mean, I’ve never played with him,” Michael says. “But I hear all the Rosenbergs are nice guys.”

“Yeah, he’s nice,” Shane says. He doesn’t know what his face is doing right now, but it’s dark, so if it’s scarlet, at least Michael can’t see it. “Anyway, he just got here, so I figured it’d be nice for him to meet some of the guys.”

“For sure,” Michael says.

Which is totally saving Shane’s ass, because now he can bring Michael along for lunch and they can just talk about the team and the upcoming season and nobody will say a word about Shane’s trip to Calgary.

Shane drives them over to the rink the next day and he pulls into a spot in the parking lot about five seconds before Brady pulls into the spot next to him in a car that Shane doesn’t remember from Calgary. So Shane has about one second to prepare himself for seeing Brady.

He’s already grabbing his gear from the trunk when Brady gets out of his car, grinning at them. He’s so tall. And he put on some weight over the summer. He looks incredible. How the fuck is Shane supposed to deal with this?

“Hey,” Brady says.

Shane’s just staring at him. Words? What are those?

Thankfully Michael comes to his rescue and introduces himself and takes it upon himself to explain the rink to Brady, leading him in through the doors that are for staff and players only and takes them to the locker room where the equipment guys have already stuck nameplates to stalls. Shane’s back where he’s always been. Michael is two stalls over. Brady’s on the other side of the room and Shane is weirdly conflicted about it, because part of him wanted Brady right next to him and another part is glad that he won’t have to deal with that. Things might still change once people get sent down.

Informal practices are definitely part of why Shane always comes back to Denver early. They give you a chance to ease back into things, to catch up, to get to know the rookies who are arriving for training camp, hoping for a roster spot. Shane is glad that that’s not something he has to deal with. He doesn’t have to worry about not making it, about getting sent down. Hell, they didn’t want him to go back to college because they wanted him on the roster in Denver.

There’s a few guys who might crack the roster this season. Julian Stieglitz might get to stay this year. He’s only twenty and they might give him another year in the minors, but he’s already on the ice with Luke and a handful of other guys when Shane gets out there and he’s looking good. Fast. And Luke is glaring at him, which means he probably just scored a filthy as hell goal on him.

Brady follows him out onto to ice and skates over to Luke, who gives him a fistbump. Luke… smiles? They know each other? Brady never mentioned that. And obviously Shane can’t ask Brady, so he skates over to Luke to say hi and mutters, “How do you know Brady?”

“Oh, Rosie and I go way back,” Luke says.

“Yeah? How far back?”

“Ten thousand years,” Luke says and then slaps him with his goalie stick to make him get out of the way.

Shane sulks and skates right into the arms of Robbie, who’s waiting for him by the blue line. “Wilder, baby, was Luke mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Shane says.

And then Michael barrels into them with an extremely loud, “Group hug!”

Shane’s so fucking glad that there’s no media here yet, but they’ll probably arrive soon enough. He sees one of the Hawks’ social media people lurking behind the glass. He doesn’t mind doing media stuff, doesn’t mind doing silly shit in front of the camera. Just as long as he doesn’t have to answer any personal questions. Those usually come around close to Valentine’s Day, when they ask about fun first date stories and other stuff Shane would rather not share. Last season Robbie came to his rescue, sat down next to him, threw his arm around Shane and said, “So, don’t listen to what he tells you, because our first date was actually really romantic.”And Shane was saved from making up some story about some first date in high school or whatever the hell they wanted to hear.

There’s only about ten guys in town at this point, but it’s still a fun practice.

Shane skates up to Julian Stieglitz after and gives his bucket a tap. “Hey, Stick, you staying with Pad again?”

“Yeah,” Julian says. He always goes bright red when people pay attention to him, it’s adorable. He almost trips on his way off the ice and Michael grabs him by his jersey.

“You okay?” Shane asks, trying his very hardest not to laugh.

Julian nods, goes even redder, and then quickly waddles away.

“No thanks for saving him from smashing his face in?” Michael says, shaking his head. “I guess he was too busy flirting with you.”

Shane snorts. “He said like… one word to me, come on.”

“Oh, he was flirting with the eyes. All bashful…” Michael bats his eyelashes at Shane. “Like this.”

“Fuck off, leave the kid alone. He’s shy.”

Michael laughs.

“Are we blocking the door for a reason?” Brady asks as he skates up to them. There’s a stray curl sticking out at the top of his bucket and that happens to Shane all the fucking time, but when it’s Brady, it’s suddenly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“I’m flirting with Wilder,” Michael says. “But he is immune.”

“I would call that bullying,” Shane grumbles.

Michael blows him a kiss and finally gets off the ice, swaggering away down to the locker room.

Brady smiles, just a little.

“He wasn’t actually flirting with me,” Shane feels the need to say. “He was just being a dick.”

“Sometimes those two things are not mutually exclusive,” Brady says.

Shane laughs.

Brady follows him off the ice and they’re gross and sweaty, but Brady still looks good when he’s gross and sweaty. Of course he does. Shane looks fucking awful, his hair tangled, falling into his eyes when he takes off his helmet. His face is probably blotchy red and this morning he noticed that he’s getting a pimple on the side of his chin. He’s in his mid-twenties, he’s not supposed to get pimples anymore, right? Anyway, he’s less than attractive right now and walking next to Brady is torture.

“So, how do you know Luke?” Shane asks. “I didn’t realize you knew anyone else on the team.” Did that just sound a little… whiny? Fuck, Shane hopes not. It’s not like he’s complaining or anything.

“Oh, yeah, I wasn’t even thinking about it when I signed here, but Luke and I actually played together for the Falcons’ farm team, but it was the season he got traded to the Hawks to back up for Jacobi. And, like, we didn’t stay in touch or anything, but he’s cool.”

“He is,” Shane says. “He usually hangs out with us.”

“Who’s _us_ , then? Your crew?”

“I mean, they’re not _my_ crew, but…” Shane shrugs. “We hang out. It’s Foxie and Luke and Robbie and me. And sometimes Oreo. And you. If you want.”

Brady grins. “What do I have to do to join?”

“If Robbie’s coming to the Grill with us later, he might try to talk you into eating the extra spicy wings. He made Michael eat them last season and he nearly cried.”

“That’s it?”

“I’ll make sure they don’t get too weird about it,” Shane says.

“You’re a good friend,” Brady says and nudges him before they go their separate ways in the locker room.

Shane gets out of his gear quickly and hits the showers, not even looking in Brady’s direction. Since it was just an informal practice, they all work out for a bit, but don’t stick around as long as they usually would if the season had already started.

They all end up in one of the big booths at the Grill, but it’s him, Michael, Robbie, Luke, Oreo and Brady, and none of them are exactly small, so they’re all squeezed in together, Shane trapped between Michael and Brady. Everyone’s in a great mood, Oreo whacking Robbie with the menu as he talks about his trip to Greece, complaining that Robbie didn’t take him.

“You, me and my girlfriend? Yeah, that would have been real romantic,” Robbie says.

“I’m very pleasant to have around,” Oreo says. “I wouldn’t have asked for much, maybe just for you to hold me close while we watch the sunset or something.”

Robbie laughs and tries to stuff a napkin into Oreo’s mouth.

Shane’s barely even listening, because he’s pressed up right against Brady, thigh against Brady’s, warm where they’re touching, their arms brushing every time one of them moves even just an inch. Shane is starting to think up elaborate plans to escape – maybe he could pretend that he needs to go to the bathroom and when he comes back he can make Michael scoot into the middle. Except he’s not exactly opposed to being this close to Brady, torturous as it is. Brady’s wearing really small shorts and his bare knee knocked against Shane’s when they sat down. And Shane – no shit – nearly passed out.

He hates that he’s enjoying this. He hates that, while Robbie and Oreo are bickering across the table and Brady is laughing softly next to him, he’s daydreaming about leaning against Brady, and Brady’s arm sneaking around his back.

Brady shifts, just a little, thigh pressing against Shane’s a little more for a few seconds, before he settles again. Shane has to stop thinking. About… anything. He has to think about really unsexy things. That have nothing to do with Brady’s thighs. Or how tight his shorts are.

What’s not sexy? Mustard. Mustard isn’t sexy. It’s just mustard. In all honesty, Shane thinks mustard is kinda gross. He eats hot dogs with ketchup, he doesn’t care.

Thinking about mustard doesn’t really help, but then Izzie comes over to take their order, so at least he’s distracted for a few minutes while they talk to Izzie about her summer. Shane’s pretty sure that she didn’t miss them being rowdy in their usual corner, but they try to make it up to her. They tip well. She doesn’t care about hockey that much, but she wears this lanyard with little pins on it and they got her a Hawks pin and she’s been wearing it ever since.

“Izzie, this is Brady,” Robbie says and points at Brady. “He’s new.”

“Hi, Brady,” Izzie says, “so nice to meet you.”

“He’ll have the extra spicy wings,” Robbie says.

“He doesn’t have to,” Shane says.

“Yes, he does,” Oreo chimes in.

Shane rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t.”

Somebody kicks Shane under the table.

“It’s a rite of passage,” Robbie complains.

“How is it a rite of passage?” Shane asks. “I didn’t have to eat the spicy wings.”

“I did,” Oreo says.

“And I did,” Michael says.

“It’s okay, I’ll eat the wings,” Brady says, looking slightly amused.

“I tried,” Shane whispers to him.

“It’s okay,” Brady whispers back and gently nudges Shane’s arm.

It’s clearly not an issue, because Brady eats all the extra spicy chicken wings, every last one, Robbie watching in horror as Brady demolishes them while the rest of them eat their burgers and chicken tenders and garlic fries.

“These are really good,” Brady says when he’s done.

“You’re fucking with me.”

Brady grins. “I really like spicy food.”

“Okay, but those are the chicken wings of death,” Oreo says.

“And they were great,” Brady says.

Oreo shakes his head. “Whatever you say, Spicy.”

Shane snorts. That one’s probably going to stick.


	21. Chapter 21

Shane does spend about five seconds considering talking to Brady about what happened during the summer, but they’re getting along so well during the preseason that Shane can’t bring himself to even mention it. They meet up to take the dogs for walks and they hang out at Shane’s place, Shane snapping a hundred pictures of Chewie snuggling with the stuffed dog Brady gave him while Michael keeps asking Penny for her paw, which she gives him with angelic patience over and over again, tail thumping when Michael pets her afterwards. Really, Shane’s entire camera roll is just pictures of Penny and Chewie.

Michael clearly doesn’t mind having Brady and the dogs over. The day before their last preseason game, Shane takes a picture of Michael lying on the floor with Penny, watching TV. It blows up on Instagram afterwards.

As people get sent down – Julian Stieglitz doesn’t make the cut, blushing bright red when Shane says that he hopes they’ll see him again soon – Brady actually ends up on the third line, which is honestly what he deserves. He worked his ass off during training camp and everyone could see it. Not that he didn’t work his ass off in New York, but the Ravens were stacked last season, so he never really even had the chance to make the third line.

The Hawks are… Well, they lost some people after they won the Cup and they have a few huge contract extensions coming up. Orlie doesn’t mention his contract talks, but Shane’s assuming that the Hawks will try to lock him down before the season’s even over. He has no doubt that Orlie wants to stay, but he’ll also want a raise and then things will get tricky. But Shane isn’t thinking about that. His mind is as far away from contract talks as possible. It’s another two seasons until his contract’s up and fuck knows what’s going to happen between now and then. Some guys might retire – Scottie’s thirty-six and he’s the oldest guy on the team. And then there’s trades and– Yeah, Shane’s not thinking about that.

They’re lucky because they have a good core group. Nobody’s going anywhere.

Shane’s back on the second line with Oreo and Michael, which is hardly surprising because they worked like clockwork. One of their rookies, Dahlin, gets put on the first line with Orlie and Pad, and Shane’s only a little bit jealous they they didn’t even try him out for the spot. He gets to play with Orlie on the first power play unit, so there’s no need to be a crybaby about it.

Sadly, Gunner made it back into the lineup, probably because the Hawks feel like they need someone who’s willing to punch another guy in the face. Shane’s kinda small, definitely the shortest guy on the team, so nobody’s looking to him to defend anyone. Ever. But he would totally learn how to punch a guy in the face if that meant that they could get rid of Gunner. They don’t really hang out with the same people, neither at home nor on the road, so Shane doesn’t have to spend too much time with him, but they’re still on the same team.

Before their first regular season game, Orlie hosts a party, like he does every year, and Shane thought that the preseason was enough to get used to Brady being on the Hawks and to him being around all the fucking time whilst looking, well– When Brady walked in through the door, he was wearing the tightest jeans and the tightest button-down of all time and Oreo whistled at him and said, “Spicy, where are you going, you look like a snack.”

Which is correct.

He does look like a snack. And Oreo probably only said that because Brady looks way too good for a team party; most of them are just wearing team shirts and hoodies. Shane is wearing one from two season ago and it’s about two sizes too big on him. He definitely didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about his outfit. Oreo is wearing sweatpants.

Brady blushed and ducked his head and quickly walked away from Oreo. He does the same to Ronnie when he arrives in an outfit strikingly similar to Brady’s, pats Ronnie’s ass and says, “Oh, baby, you didn’t have to get all dressed up for me.”

Ronnie flips him off, says, “Who says I got dressed up for you,” and gives Oreo a pat on the ass in return.

“Hey.”

Shane jumps approximately three feet into the air when Brady sits down next to him, a plate with a cheeseburger balanced on his lap. “Oh,” Shane says. “Hey.”

There’s not a lot of room on the couch when Luke sits down next to Brady, because it’s technically only a two-seater, so Brady ends up squished against Shane and– How does this keep happening? Brady definitely sits next to him a lot, they know each other well, so it makes sense. They sat together on the plane during the preseason, too. Shane thought Brady might prefer to sit with Luke, but Luke refuses to sit next to anyone other than Robbie on the plane. Last season Shane mostly sat with Michael, but since they’re roommates now and spend a lot of time together anyway, Michael wasn’t mad that Shane didn’t sit with him. Michael has a new mission anyway – the kid from Switzerland, Leon Kimmich. He’s twenty-three and he made the roster for the first time and he’s a quiet kid, but he seems to like talking to Michael, the two of them quietly mumbling back and forth in German.

“There’s so much food,” Brady says as he picks up his cheeseburger.

“Oh, yeah, Orlie always goes all out,” Shane says. “And he, like… hosts so many parties. It really depends on our schedule, but there was one year where we had a Christmas party and a New Year’s Eve party. Like, he’s just looking for reasons to invite us all over.”

“Super Bowl party,” Luke says. “St. Patrick’s Day party. Midway point of the season party.”

“One year we had a Valentine’s Day party.”

Luke nods. “End of season party is always a good one, too.”

“Oh, remember the Borscht party?” Shane says.

“Vaguely.” Luke gives Brady a look. “Too much vodka.”

“Don’t do shots with Orlie,” Shane says.

“Don’t do shots with anyone. Except for me,” Luke says and smiles serenely.

Brady smirks and eats his burger. Shane finishes his hot dog, trying to ignore how Brady’s thigh is pressed against his. Brady’s jeans are really tight. Shane wonders if Brady bought them at a store and that’s why they’re so fucking tight or if they’re tailored and Brady told them to make them as tight as possible so he could give Shane heart palpitations.

“Do you think I’ll explode if I eat a burger?” Shane mumbles.

“You only had a hot dog.”

“And steak and lasagna.”

“Pad’s wife’s lasagna?” Luke asks. “Where is it?”

“I ate all of it,” Shane says. He didn’t, he just got the last piece. “There’s more in the oven, though.”

Luke’s eyes go wide and he takes off towards the kitchen.

“Is it, like, the best lasagna in the world?”

“It is,” Shane says. “You might wanna go follow Luke if you want to get a piece of it, though.”

“Nah, I’m good. This burger is huge,” Brady says and continues to munch on it. He’s not moving either, which makes sense, because he’s eating and Luke’s probably coming back in a few minutes anyway. And he obviously doesn’t know that he’s torturing Shane, just by sitting next to him, just by being this close to him.

Shane grabs his beer from the table and takes a big sip. And another big sip. Luke brings him a beer when he returns to them with his lasagna. As the evening goes on, Shane has to drink a lot more beer, his face getting hotter and hotter, Brady’s thigh feeling hotter and hotter against his, too. They must have been sitting here together for like three hours, except when he checks his phone, it looks like it’s only been… forty-five minutes.

He eventually gets up to talk to Michael, who’s in the kitchen with a bunch of the other guys and is already thoroughly wasted. There’s a nearly empty bottle of tequila on the counter. It’s gonna be fun getting him home tonight. He gives Shane a tight hug and just holds on to him for a couple of minutes as they wait for Orlie to unwrap all the brownies and cupcakes he bought for the party.

“Are those little chocolate hockey sticks?” Shane asks when Orlie nudges one of the cupcake boxes in his direction, like he knows exactly that Shane is dying to eat one.

He eats two.

He eats a third one just before midnight. He must be really bad at eating it, because when Brady joins him in the kitchen, he laughs and says, “Did you eat the last chocolate cupcake?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Oh, I didn’t want it,” Brady says, trying to lean against the counter, but it’s clearly further away than he was expecting. His face goes red as he catches himself. “I just… That cupcake is kinda all over your face.”

“Oops,” Shane says and grabs a napkin to quickly wipe his mouth. “Did I get everything?”

“No, there’s some there…” Brady points at the corner of Shane’s mouth.

“Okay?”

“And on your nose?”

Shane’s pretty sure that Brady’s screwing with him now, but when he wipes at his nose with his napkin, it comes away with chocolate frosting on it. “Now?”

“Uhh… there’s still some… there… like, on your jaw?”

“How did it even get there?”

Brady laughs.

“Here?”

“No, further back.”

“Here?”

Brady, still laughing, snatches another napkin to wipe the frosting off Shane’s jaw, his fingers brushing against Shane’s skin before he pulls his hand away. “There, you’re good.”

“Thanks,” Shane says. “Connor always said that I eat like a two-year-old and I guess he was right.”

Brady grins.

He’s pretty. He’s so pretty.

Shane needs to stop thinking about how pretty Brady is, because if he doesn’t, he might accidentally say it out loud. He says a lot of dumb shit when he’s drunk, which is why he usually stops saying stuff altogether after a few beers.

Brady squints at him. “Are your eyes blue or gray?”

“Uh…” Shane blinks at him. “I guess they’re kinda both. In between. I don’t know.”

“Huh,” Brady says.

“I once read that all people with blue eyes are, like, related to the same person. Like, I’m basically a mutant. I could be, like… one of the X-Men.”

“Yeah, can you do something special with those eyes?”

“I can…” Shane waves his hand. “Smolder.”

“Oh, oh, sure.”

“Look,” Shane says and tries to smolder. You know. Like the guy in _Tangled_.

Brady bursts out laughing, because of course Shane doesn’t manage to actually smolder. He isn’t, like, one of the hot dudes. Face-wise. Toby used to say he was cute and he seemed to like Shane’s abs well enough, but Shane isn’t one of _those guys_. The guys that people go insane over because they’re so hot. Like, he’s heard his sister talk about some of the guys on the Bears’ roster. When Evan Samuels signed with them two years ago, she wouldn’t shut up about it because he’s so hot. And, like, he is, but that’s beside the point.

Shane sticks out his bottom lip, even though he knew he was being ridiculous and this was the only appropriate reaction. Like, smolder? Really? What was he thinking?

“No, hey,” Brady says and puts his arm around Shane, “that was a great smolder, I’m so impressed.”

“No, you’re not,” Shane says and leans against Brady a little, because he’s drunk and Brady is warm and Shane is sleepy and the more he drinks, the cuddlier he gets.

“Aw, group hug,” Oreo shouts and slides in to give both of them a squeeze. “I missed you guys. I mean, not you, Spicy, I didn’t even know you, but you know what I mean.”

“Right,” Brady says and indulgently pats Oreo’s back.

With Oreo’s hugging and squeezing, though, Shane’s even closer to Brady than he was before, pressed right up against him. Like, _Thanks a lot, Oreo_ , for giving Shane another chance to die on the inside.

“Heeeey, group hug!”

And then Robbie is in the mix, too, and Shane can hear Brady laughing into his ear, now closer than before, right in the middle of their little huddle, his cheek pressed against Brady’s shirt, Robbie right behind him. Nobody on this team has ever even heard of personal space.

Robbie detaches himself first and goes looking for some cold food from earlier, while Oreo grabs a beer from the fridge and then Shane and Brady are alone in the kitchen again.

Brady huffs out a laughs. “Hey… your hair.”

“What now?”

Brady reaches out, fingers gentle in Shane’s hair as he pets it down. “There.”

Shane is probably staring at him again, he’s just too drunk to actually care about it right now. Brady’s kind of staring at him, too. One of them should probably look away now. So things don’t get awkward. Maybe it’s already awkward. Shane can’t tell anymore. Brady’s still touching him, hand on Shane’s arm. Shane wonders if he could get away with leaning against him again. He’s really tired.

“I kinda want to go to bed,” Shane says. “Does that mean I’m old?”

Brady laughs, hand running up Shane’s arm to squeeze his shoulder, then it drops away and Shane finally convinces himself to look away. Hopefully Brady will just think that Shane’s a bit slow because he’s drunk and not that he’s fantasizing about kissing his face.

Which he is. He’s very much fantasizing about kissing Brady’s face. In Orlie’s kitchen. Which is totally not a good place to kiss another guy. Let alone a teammate. Shane takes a careful, inconspicuous step back.

Someone shouts, “Fuck off,” in the other room and it has a Russian accent.

“Hey, you wanna check out who’s getting murdered?” Shane says and starts towards the living room without even waiting for a reply.

Nobody’s actually getting murdered, but Niki has Oreo in a headlock on the couch. Oreo seems to be having a great time.

Shane’s glad when Michael starts making noises about going home. They could technically go in separate Ubers, but Shane is tired and drunk and he likes not being alone. Michael’s cheeks are red even before they step out into the cool October night, huddling close to Shane as they wait for their Uber. It was two minutes away, but it looks like their driver took a wrong turn.

“I…” Shane sighs, breath rising up in a cloud.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

Michael shifts against him. “Nothing?”

“It’s not nothing, but I can’t tell you, because you’ll judge me and I really don’t want you to judge me.”

“For what?”

“Nothing.”

Michael gives him a one-armed hug. He doesn’t let go until their Uber pulls up and they climb into the backseat.


	22. Chapter 22

The season goes well until they get ready to leave for a three-game roadie at the beginning of November. Shane is packing his bag when his phone starts to ring under a pile of clothes on his bed and they all go flying when he digs for his phone. At least they weren’t folded yet.

It’s his mom calling him, probably about family dinner. He was home for a preseason game, but only had time for a quick lunch with his mom. His dad was absent, for work reasons. Or that’s what he said. When Shane comes to town, he usually invites everyone out for dinner the night before the game if his schedule allows it and he gets everyone tickets for the game if they have time to come. This time only his mom and Jen asked for tickets and his dad won’t be able to make it, for work reasons. Or that’s what he said. They’re still supposed to have dinner together, though. Shane and his mom and his dad and Jen and her husband and, if they can’t find a babysitter, the kids. It’s weird that Hannah isn’t going to be there, but he promised her that he’d get her tickets for one of their East Coast games in February, probably the one in Boston, for her and her friends. He should have probably specified how many friends he’s willing to get tickets for.

She’s already requested to – _please, please, please, this is the only thing i want for xmas and my bday this year_ – meet Brady.She sent Shane about a thousand texts the day Brady officially signed with the Hawks. He deleted a lot of them afterwards, because nobody could ever read those.

“Hey, Mom,” Shane says as all his underwear slips off his bed.

“Shane, hi, how are you?”

“Uh, just… packing. Nothing exciting going on. What about you?”

“I’m all good. Sweetheart, do you have a minute to talk?”

“I guess?” Shane says. Because… she doesn’t usually ask. Which is weird. Doesn’t bode well. “What’s wrong?”

His mom sighs. “I don’t really know how to tell you this, but… since you’re coming home in a few days…” She clears her throat. “Your dad will probably not be joining us for dinner.”

“He won’t,” Shane says.

“Your dad and I, we’ve had some problems.”

_No shit_ , Shane almost says. Almost. Because that’s his parents’ relationship. And, like, his mom is telling him something here and doesn’t get to be mad right now, because it’s her marriage that fell apart. He says, “Yeah.” Yeah, he’s heard about those problems.

“We… We thought it was best to take a little break from each other.”

“A break.”

“Yes, honey.”

“How long of a break?”

“I…” She sighs. “Your dad doesn’t live here right now.”

“But when you say it’s a break, that sort of implies that he’s going to come back,” Shane says. “Is he going to come back?”

Because last thing he heard was that his dad had a girlfriend.

“I don’t… We’ll revisit that issue in a little while,” his mom says. “But, what I wanted to tell you is, even though he’s not going to make it to family dinner, he’ll still want to see you when you’re in town.”

“Okay, but maybe I don’t want to see him,” Shane says.

Whatever. He _is_ mad.

“He’s still your dad.”

“But he somehow couldn’t even, I don’t know, pick up the phone and tell me that he wants to see me himself?”

“He’s… This is hard for both of us, for me and for your dad. And I know this is hard to hear for you, too, but I know you’ve noticed that we were having problems. You’re an adult, so we won’t… You make your own choices here, but you need to cut your dad some slack.”

“How are you defending him right now?”

“Shane.”

“No, I’m serious, how are you acting like this isn’t his fault?”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just not working anymore and we’re doing what’s best for both of us.”

Shane takes a deep breath. It’s nobody’s fault? Seriously, Shane can’t mention the girlfriend, but it seems pretty clear to him whose fucking fault this is. Even if they were arguing a lot, his dad didn’t have to go and cheat on his mom. He could have at least waited for them to actually separate before finding himself a girlfriend.

“Shane, honey,” his mom says when he doesn’t reply. “Are you okay?”

“No, not really,” Shane says. Who the fuck would be okay after a conversation like this?

“I’m so sorry that I had to spring this on you like this, but I didn’t want to lie to you and you are coming home, so–”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Shane says. Instead of, well… telling her how he really feels. She’s springing this on him? She could have said something months ago. She didn’t want to lie to him? They’ve been lying for fuck knows how long. And would she even have said something if he wasn’t coming home? “I’m sorry,” he goes on. “This is…” He shrugs, even though she can’t see him. “I gotta go, I have to finish packing.”

“Of course,” his mom says, voice quiet. “I know it’s hard.”

It doesn’t really sound like it’s all that hard for her, though. Maybe she’s just hiding it well. Or she’s had several months to get used to it. Several months that Shane spent guessing.

They say goodbye.

And Shane sits down on the floor. Next to the pile of underwear that slid off the bed.

He stays there for a little while.

Until Michael knocks on the door and Shane sort of snaps out of whatever headspace he was in while he was sitting next to his underwear.

“Yeah?” Shane says.

Michael pushes the door open, clearly surprised to find Shane on the floor. “Packing is going well, I see.”

“My parents don’t live together anymore,” Shane says, because that should explain why he’s sitting where he’s sitting.

“Oh,” Michael says, and kneels down, and pushes the underwear out of the way, and sits down next to Shane. “I’m sorry. That’s…”

“Yeah.”

“Anything I can do?” Michael says.

Shane leans against him, because he doesn’t know how to ask for a hug right now, but he really needs one and Michael seems to get it, because he puts his arm around Shane without any hesitation whatsoever, pulling him in and holding him tightly.

“Did you just find out?” Michael asks.

“My mom called just now. Because, you know, we’re going to Minnesota and…” He has to stop talking. He just can’t say anything anymore.

Michael hugs him closer. “How about I… I’ll call the Grill and I’ll order food for both of us and I’ll go pick it up. And we’ll watch movies or your friend Connor’s game or… whatever you want.”

“I want to lie on the floor,” Michael says.

“I’ll lie on the floor with you then.”

The thing is, tough, that Michael would actually lie on the floor with him and that almost makes him cry. He clears his throat. “Food sounds good, though. Get a lot, I’m gonna invite Brady over.”

“Okay,” Michael says, squeezes his shoulder and slowly gets up, already with his phone in hand as he walks out of Shane’s room.

Shane grabs his phone and texts Brady – _can u bring me the dogs, i’ll give u food_.

_You’re serious, aren’t you?_ is the reply he gets about half a minute later.

_yes???_

_Give me twenty minutes_ , Brady says.

Michael has just left to grab their food – probably an assortment of appetizers and burgers, which they have to eat tonight because they’re leaving tomorrow – when Brady pulls into the driveway. It’s not like Shane starts waiting by the window after those twenty minutes have passed, but he’s sort of… waiting by the window. He yanks the door open as Brady opens the trunk of his car.

“Dogs,” Shane says when Penny hops out first and comes running straight towards him.

“I said _stay_ ,” Brady shouts after her, but it’s already way too late for that.

“You should have listened to your dad,” Shane says as he bends down to pet her. “But I’m also very happy to see you, so I don’t mind that you’re a criminal who didn’t listen.”

“Whatever,” Brady says over by the car. “Get out of there, Chewie, go on, go to Shane.” He slams the trunk shut and follows Chewie to the door, raising his eyebrows at Shane. “At least they didn’t run into the street, I guess. Why don’t you bring the food to my house next time?”

“What about Michael?”

“Why don’t you bring Michael and the food to my house next time?”

“I will,” Shane says. “But my parents are getting divorced, so I needed a dog delivery.”

“Your… fuck. I’m so sorry.”

Shane takes a deep breath and lets Chewie slobber all over his face. It sort of makes him feel a lot better.

Not that they’re getting divorced for sure, but they don’t live together. His dad is seeing someone else. There’s no fucking way that they’re getting back together.

“Come on in,” Shane says, because Brady’s still standing out in the cold. “Michael’s getting our food, he’ll be back in… ten minutes or something.”

“Okay,” Brady says and shuffles into the house. He sets down a bag. “I’ve already fed them, but I brought toys and a water bowl.”

“Yeah, I’ll get them some water,” Shane says and takes it from him, Penny and Chewie following at his heels. They’ve been here before, but they’re clearly still curious. Shane lets them wander about, but is extremely pleased when they come and sit by his feet in the living room. Okay, maybe they came to sit with Brady, but still. Penny’s head is on his knee.

“She wants to sit with you,” Brady says.

“Why can’t she?”

“I mean, she can, but you’ll have to get her off the couch again when we’re eating.”

“Later,” Shane says to her. “We’ll snuggle. We’ll be snuggle-buddies.”

Michael comes in with several bags of food not too much later and Brady keeps a stern eye on Chewie and Penny, who watch them with the most tragic faces, obviously hoping that one of them will cave and let them have some of their dinner. Shane totally would. In a heartbeat. But then Brady would turn the stern eyes on him and Shane’s not going to risk it.

They put on the Cardinals game, because Shane has to support his main man, Connor, and Shane lets Penny hop up onto the couch with him, her head in his lap, while Chewie yawns and lies down with his head on Brady’s feet. Michael is absent-mindedly scratching Penny’s back as the Cardinals absolutely destroy the Lions. Nick Rivera has already scored two goals and he’s clearly having the time of his life. Absolutely destroying a team that didn’t want you anymore must feel pretty fucking amazing.

Michael dozes off sometime during the second intermission, snoring softly. The dogs are asleep, too, Penny still snuggled against Shane, who’s been scratching her head pretty much the entire time.

“Hey,” Brady says and reaches over. “You still have the bracelet Dani made for you?”

“Yeah,” Shane says.

Brady’s fingers brush against his skin when he tugs at the bracelet and Shane just wants to take his hand, just take it and lace their fingers together and maybe lean against him a little and grab a blanket and close his eyes and– Brady pulls his hand away and smiles.

“I’ll tell her that you still have it,” Brady says. “It’ll make her happy.”

Shane smiles back at him, but before he gets too caught up looking at his astoundingly beautiful face, the goal horn sounds on TV and Shane looks away to see who scored. Hats are raining down onto the ice, so it must have been Nick Rivera again. Connor’s on the ice, too, the replay showing him as he lifts Nick off his feet.

“When are we playing against the Cardinals?” Brady asks. “They’re scary good.”

“Uh, December. It’s the last game on that really long roadie right before Christmas.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw that one on the schedule. It’s terrible, because we’re starting in Florida and it’s just gonna get colder and colder,” Brady says. “But we have a day off between the New York games, that’ll be nice.”

“Yeah, days off in New York are always fun,” Shane says. He laughs. “Last season I came to visit you, remember?”

“‘Course I remember,” Brady says, voice soft. “And you met these guys.”

Shane gently strokes his fingers over Penny’s ear. “Thanks for bringing them over.”

“Of course,” Brady says. He glances over at Shane. “Do you… If you wanna talk about… you know…”

“I… I mean, I do, but I also… don’t,” Shane says. “I feel like… I knew it was coming, so why am I so upset about it? I mean, I told you last summer, they’ve been…” He shakes his head. “I knew.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about it,” Brady says.

“Yeah,” Shane says. “I have no idea how to deal with this. Like, my mom’s trying to be all diplomatic and I don’t even know how she can be so chill about my dad practically cheating on her. How can I be okay with that?”

Brady chews on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” he says, and reaches out again, fingers curling around Shane’s arm.

“I don’t even wanna talk to my dad right now,” Shane says. He’s surprised he’s still capable of saying words now that Brady is touching him. “I don’t wanna see him.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but…” Shane trails off. Brady is slowly dragging his thumb back and forth. It’s a little distracting. “I almost wanna, like, cancel dinner with the rest of my family and just not see anyone when I’m home. It’s gonna be so awkward. But then my mom will be mad and I don’t want to make this worse for her either.”

The goal horn sounds again.

Nick Rivera. Goal four. He’s having one hell of a night. “Four fucking goals,” Shane says. “Imagine scoring four fucking goals in one night. That’s insane.” If he ever scored four goals, he’d probably rip off his jersey and belly-flop on the ice or something.

“I don’t even score one goal most nights,” Brady says. “But good for him. He hasn’t been scoring a lot the past few games.”

“You know him?”

“I mean, not personally, but he seems like a good guy who’s had a lot of crap to deal with.”

Shane hums.

“Anyway…” Brady gives Shane’s arm a squeeze as the clock runs down on TV and the Cardinals win the game with a final score of 9-3. Shane’s never played in a game where the score was _that_ high, or at least not since he joined the Hawks. He remembers that they had a seven-goal game once. And probably even a few six-goal games, but nine?

Brady’s hand disappears a moment later and he stretches and Shane is really proud of himself for not looking over at Brady to see if his shirt rode up a little. He’s not that fucking desperate.

“I think it’s time for us to head home,” Brady says and gives Penny a nudge.

“Can she just sleep in my bed tonight?”

Brady laughs. “Hey, don’t steal my dogs.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Shane says and leans down to give Penny’s head a kiss. “Thank you for coming over and sleeping on me, it was great.” He glances at the end of the couch where Chewie is still snoozing next to Brady’s feet. “Are you just gonna wake him up?”

Brady laughs and sits up, which has Chewie blinking and looking up, too. “We’re going home,” Brady says and he’s using that tone of voice he always uses with the dogs, really soft and a little excited.

Honestly, a lot of people talk to dogs like that. Shane talks to dogs like that, too. But when Brady does it, it’s extra cute.

Michael snoozes through them getting off the couch and Brady collecting his belongings. Shane takes him to the door and waits as Brady gets his shoes back on and grabs his jacket.

“Thanks for coming over,” Shane says.

“Thanks for dinner,” Brady replies.

Shane nods.

“Hey…” Brady says. He reaches out again and this time he gently tugs Shane into a hug. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

Shane hums and tries not to think too much about how his face is pressed against Brady’s chest and how Brady’s arms are wrapped around him very tightly. Brady holds him there for a moment and lets go of him way too soon.

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do,” Brady says.

“No, you’re… You already helped.”

Brady smiles, just a little, pulls at the hem of Shane’s sleeve, so quickly that Shane barely even registers it happens and then steps back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Shane says and makes sure to give both dogs a quick pat as they follow Brady out the door.

When he returns to the living room, Michael is still on the couch, squinting at him. “Did Spicy leave?”

“Yeah.”

Michael yawns. “You okay?”

“I mean… no. But…” Shane shrugs. “Nothing anyone can do about it.”

Michael pulls a face.

Shane sits down next to him with a sigh. “You know, I kinda just want someone to lie down on me like a human blanket.

Michael laughs. “I mean, I would, but that might be a bit weird.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Here,” Michael says and hands him the stuffed dog.

Shane mumbles a, “Thank you,” and curls up on the couch again. He can finish packing tomorrow before they leave.


	23. Chapter 23

Dinner with his family is awkward, as predicted, and Shane changes the topic whenever his mom brings up his dad, Jen ducking her head like she wants to disappear every time. She shows up for dinner by herself, mentions neither the husband nor the children and eats her vegetarian flatbread in absolute silence. Shane asks about Hannah, but doesn’t get a conclusive answer, other than, “She’s so busy these days,” from his mom. He mutters some things about his food and is relieved when he finally gets into an Uber that’ll take him back to his hotel.

His mom offered to drive him, but he doesn’t want to spend the next twenty minutes trying really hard not to talk about his dad. In the car, he reads through the texts he ignored while they were eating. One’s from Michael – _come to room 403!_

Apparently the boys are hanging out.

Except when he gets to room 403 it’s just Michael, who says, “I figured you might want company.”

Shane loves him a whole lot.

They win the game the next day, and the game the day after in Seattle, then they have a day off before they lose in San Diego. Nice place to have a day off, though. Back in Denver, they get right back to it, have back-to-back games, both of which they lose and Shane can tell that everyone’s exhausted by the time Thanksgiving rolls around.

They have the day off, but a game the day before and another one the day after. Shane’s doing Thanksgiving with Michael, but they don’t make too much of an effort. They just buy everything as ready-made as possible and stick it in the oven and they lie on the couch and watch movies all day. They eat on the couch, too. Shane’s parents would be absolutely appalled, because Thanksgiving was always a Big Family Thing in the Wilds household and they all had to put on nice clothes and help make dinner, and they used the nice tablecloth and the nice plates and the nice silverware. Before they ate, they all said what they were thankful for.

They don’t do any of that today.

They eat a ton of food, sort of like last Christmas, and it’s nice and cozy and Shane hardly even notices that feeling he always gets on holidays when everyone else is celebrating with their loved ones. Robbie’s girlfriend is visiting and Brady’s mom is going to be here for a few days and… it just seemed like everyone had someone. And Shane has Michael, in a way, which is great, and better than being all by himself, but whenever holidays roll around, Shane thinks about how much nicer it would be if he had someone he could cuddle up to on the couch.

He sighs and shovels the rest of his mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Too much food?” Michael asks. He’s sprawled out next to Shane, empty plate resting on his stomach.

Shane hums and continues to eat his mashed potatoes, seriously considering getting another helping. With a ton of gravy. And maybe some stuffing. And beans.

“What?” Michael says.

“It’s stupid,” Shane mutters.

“No such thing.”

“I’m just…” Shane shrugs and puts down his plate. “I miss having a boyfriend. And, like, all the boyfriend stuff.”

Michael snorts. “You can say sex. I’m not _allergic_ to it. My ears won’t start bleeding if I hear the word.”

“It’s not even just sex, it’s… you know.” Shane sighs again. Kissing. He misses kissing. Just… lying in bed together, warm and comfortable under the sheets. Wearing someone else’s clothes. Pressing your feet against someone else’s under the table while you’re having breakfast together. All that. The boyfriend stuff.

“Yeah,” Michael says, “I know.”

They eat pie. This time they only got one pie and Michael didn’t insist on making it. Shane carefully covers his entire slice with a layer of whipped cream, Michael watching him with what Shane thinks might be abject horror. Except Michael reaches for the can of whipped cream when Shane is done with it and covers his own slice of pie as well. But, like, not as extensively as Shane did.

Shane raises his eyebrows at him.

“What?” Michael says. “We don’t have Thanksgiving in Germany, so I’m just doing what you’re doing.”

“That’s a daring choice.”

Michael grins and starts munching on his apple pie, humming happily. They start watching _Emperor’s New Groove_ because Michael has never seen it and Shane’s weirdly fond of that movie. As fond of it as he is, though, he still falls asleep halfway through, because eating all that food really took it out of him. He’s just dozing at first, still hears the dialogue of the movie, but from one second to another, he’s totally dead to the world.

When he wakes up again, he’s pressed up against something warm.

“Hm,” he says, a little confused, and realizes that his head is definitely on Michael’s shoulder. He’s never sat up that quickly. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says and wiggles a little, like he was uncomfortable and was waiting for Shane to get the fuck off him.

“I’m sorry,” Shane says again. He definitely got too close just now. Like, _Boundaries, Shane? You know what those are?_

“No, don’t apologize, it’s honestly okay, just…”

“What?”

“You know that I’m not…” Michael’s cheeks have turned faintly pink.

Fuck’s sake, Shane was talking about how he misses having a boyfriend and then he went and cuddled up to Michael, except he really didn’t mean to and this is just really fucking awkward now. “No, yeah, I know that. Shit. I didn’t… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable–”

“I’m not,” Michael says. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not… I don’t know. I don’t want to make you think something could happen.”

“Seriously, I wasn’t even...” Shane shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

Shane nods.

“Okay. If we’re on the same page…” Michael lifts up his arm. “Come back.”

“No, I’m okay over here, don’t worry.”

Michael sticks out his bottom lip.

“I don’t wanna overstep,” Shane says.

“You’re not. Come here,Robbie says I give the best hugs on the team and he’s right.”

Shane slumps against him with a sigh and Michael gives him a squeeze. It’s still awkward and Shane scoots away right after, ducking out of the room a moment later, wondering if Connor would answer the phone if he called him to freak out at him.

He sends him a text instead – _I’m a dumb fuck_ – and then gets some more mashed potatoes and gravy, because at this point nothing matters anymore.

Michael grins when Shane returns with his food. He watches as Shane sits back down and then leans closer to say, “It’s okay if you find me attractive.”

Shane nearly spits out his mashed potatoes. “What?”

“I’m very good-looking,” Michael says with a shrug.

Shane snorts. “Oh, fuck off.”

“I am.”

“Nah,” Shane says.

“I’m very sad,” Michael says and takes Shane’s plate. “I’ll take these mashed potatoes as compensation.”

“For what?”

“For you hurting my feelings.” Michael blinks down at the mashed potatoes. “I don’t have a fork.”

“Sucks for you,” Shane says.

Michael laughs and hands back the plate. “Guess I’ll have to get my own.”

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward,” Shane says.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

Michael leans his head against Shane’s shoulder. “You need to take a deep breath.”

Shane does. He takes a deep breath, but there’s so much going on and he’s so exhausted and it’s only the end of November and he just needs to not fuck up his roommate situation on top of everything else. “This season is so weird.”

“Weird?”

“Like, not the hockey part, just… For me, everything’s so messy.”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah, and…”

And he feels like he’s not playing well enough, not nearly as well as he played the season they won the Cup, not as well as last season either. He’s not bad. He scores often enough that it’s not an issue, but he knows he can do better.

And then there’s Brady.

“And?” Michael says.

Shane mashes his mashed potatoes a little more with his fork. “There’s a guy.”

Michael sits up. “Yeah?”

“But, like… Not like that. I like the guy, but the guy doesn’t…” Shane puts down the plate. “I actually have no idea if he likes me, because I thought… I saw him last summer and we nearly kissed, or at least I think we did, but we were both drunk, so I don’t know, it was just really weird and we never talked about it, so I thought… well, I guess he’d rather pretend it didn’t happen and it fucks me up. But now it’s been months, so I can’t just go and ask him about him, right? But I really wanna know if he, like… I mean if he did want to? Or maybe he just wanted to… I don’t know. He was drunk. People do weird shit when they’re drunk.”

“Okay,” Michael says.

Shane covers his face with his hands. “Fuck.”

“You really like him?” Michael asks.

“Yeah?”

“Then you should talk to him.”

“It’s not that easy,” Shane says. Even if it was that easy, talking to people about your feelings is absolutely mortifying. Who would ever do that voluntarily? Like, he clearly has no issue telling Michael about every feeling he’s ever had, but that’s different, because none of these feelings are directed at him.

Michael hums. “What are you scared of? That he’ll turn you down?”

“I mean… yeah?”

“What if he actually likes you back, though? What if he wanted to kiss you and he was just scared? Maybe he thought _you_ wouldn’t want to kiss _him_?”

Shane lets out a puff of breath.

“Maybe he still thinks about it, too,” Michael whispers.

“No,” Shane says, shaking his head. He won’t even consider that Brady might still be thinking about what happened. That he thinks about it just as much as Shane thinks about it. That Brady sneaks glances at him when he isn’t looking. That Brady dreams about him sometimes. About what would have happened if they _had_ kissed, what it would have felt like.

Michael raises his eyebrows at him. “No?”

“It’s just… complicated.”

“It always is.”

“No, seriously, this is more complicated than… regular-complicated.”

“Are you scared that he’d tell someone that you’re gay?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Okay, then I’m out of advice,” Michael says.

Shane presses his lips together. He so, so desperately wants to tell Michael the whole story, he’s going to fucking explode. He can’t, though, because if he tells him that it’s Brady, Shane is also telling him that he and Brady nearly kissed last summer, and maybe Brady wouldn’t want anyone to know about it. So what Shane ends up saying is, “He’s a player. And I don’t date other players. Because that shit gets complicated quickly. So… I can’t just talk to him about it and hope for the best, because I don’t even want anything to happen.” Except he wants _everything_ to happen.

“Okay, yes, I see how that might make things more than regular-complicated.”

“Yeah, so I’m not even gonna… do anything.”

“But you really like this guy,” Michael says.

Shane sighs. “I really like him a lot.”

“It’s probably hard, because you’d barely see him during the season,” Michael says. “But if you like him and he likes you, you could probably give it a try?”

Shane presses his lips together. If he tells Michael that it’s someone on the team, he will figure out who it is soon enough, probably in mere seconds, because Shane has definitely mentioned that he hung out with Brady last summer. It’d be just as bad as straight-up telling him that it’s Brady.

“Is he at least in our Conference?” Michael goes on.

“He is, but…” Shane shrugs. “People get traded.”

Brady was in the East until he signed with the Hawks, and, sure, he’s here now, but what are the chances that they’ll both be here for an extended period of time? It happens. One day you’re in the same place and the next you’re hundreds of miles apart. And then what?

Michael hums. “It’s not easy.”

“It’s not.”

“Will you seem him soon?” Michael asks.

“I…” Shane chews on his bottom lip. “Yes.”

He’ll see him _tomorrow_ at morning skate.

“But will you _see_ him?” Michael asks. “Will you _talk_ to him? Like, in _private_?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I don’t like that you’re this invested,” Shane mutters. Because if Michael’s getting invested and cares about Shane’s feelings, Shane might keep talking about this and the more he talks about it, the more likely it’ll become that he’ll say the wrong thing or that he’ll crack and tell him everything.

“I can stop being invested right now. Or I can be invested quietly.”

“Both is good.”

Michael nods and zips his lips shut. “I will never mention it again. Even though I really want to know who it is.”

“Please don’t ask.”

Michael shakes his head and points at his lips. Zipped shut. Okay. Shane can live with that.

Now he just has to figure out how to live with that giant crush.


	24. Chapter 24

Roadies to Florida are always either way better or way worse than you thought they would be. It sort of depends on the time of year. If the sun is strong and the air is soup, Florida roadies get pretty disgusting pretty quickly.

Everything goes exceptionally well in the beginning of this one, though. It’s a long roadie – five games in eleven days. They’re flying back home from Hartford on the 23rd, just in time for Christmas. Michael’s mom is coming the same day; they left a key with their neighbors and they’re going to let her into the house.

Michael is really excited that she’s coming and most of his sentences start with, “When my mom’s here…” He must miss her a lot, but he never really says anything about it, other than the occasional throwaway comment.

Shane has already been promised about five dozen German dishes and he absolutely cannot wait. When he was only just starting out in the league, his mom sometimes came down for a bit, but now she spends most of her free time babysitting Jen’s kids. Makes sense that she wants to hang out with the grandkids. It’s not like Shane’s ever going to have kids and Hannah’s been pretty vocal about not wanting any for a year or two, although their mom has been telling her that she’d change her mind eventually. It made Hannah pretty mad. Shane asked her why, because there’s nothing wrong with changing her mind, right? But that sort of made things worse. It wasn’t one of Shane’s proudest moments. He tried to google what he did wrong later and read a bunch of posts and he thinks he sort of gets it now.

Anyway, Jen’s kids will likely remain the only Wilds grandchildren. From Hannah it’s a _no_ , and from Shane it’s an _impossible_. Not that he’s ever told his parents that Settling Down, Marriage and Offspring – the holy trinity according to his mom – are not in his future at all. His mom is definitely starting to get impatient, always asking him if he has a girlfriend, if he’s even seeing anyone, and Shane keeps saying, yeah, sure, he was seeing someone recently, but it didn’t work out. It’s a great excuse, except his entire family thinks that he’s a shitty boyfriend and his mom keeps nagging at him because he’s never going to get married that way. Like that’s his ultimate goal in life.

Well. He wouldn’t mind getting married. To the guy of his dreams. In, like, a field of flowers or whatever. He has some ideas. He’s been harboring those for a while. He’d totally cry the entire time if he ever got to get married. Anyway, a wedding is great and all, but the thing that he really wants is to have a person and to be somebody else’s person. That just… seems really neat.

His parents probably wouldn’t come to his wedding, because they’d be too busy being shocked that one of their kids isn’t straight, but that’s not really an issue for today’s Shane. It might not be an issue _ever_.

And he doesn’t mind spending Christmas with Michael and his mom, because that way he still gets the fun family time and not the Wilds family specific drama. Shane still hasn’t really talked to his dad. He’s been replying to his texts, but, like, really slowly. And he’s totally being a dick, but his dad went and cheated on his mom and that’s why Shane invited his Uncle Eddie to come on the dads’ trip in January. His mom got really mad about it, because apparently Shane is destroying his relationship with his father, but as far as he’s concerned it’s his father who’s been destroying their relationship.

Eddie deserves to be on the trip. It’s not just dads anyway, it’s also mentors and as far as he knows Oreo invited his grandpa, because his dad isn’t well enough to travel, and Pad’s dad can’t come either so he invited his father-in-law, so it’s not like Eddie will be the odd one out. Shane’s actually looking forward to having him on the trip, even though it’s actually only two games on the road.

It’s probably for the best that it’s a short one. Long roadies can get really annoying really quickly, especially when the team’s not doing well on the road. Five-game roadies, like the one they’re on right now, can get pretty brutal. Shane remembers one a few season’s ago, a five-game roadie as well, where they lost every single game. They didn’t come home with a single point, no overtime losses, no shootout losses, nothing.

This one goes better.

They win in Florida even though Luke couldn’t travel with them, their backup goalie beaming after the game, and Tampa in December honestly isn’t so bad. They leave right after the game, piling into the plane for the flight to Philly and Shane goes the fuck to sleep almost instantly, lulled to sleep by his playlist and the bickering of Oreo and Ronnie behind them.

They have a late practice in Philadelphia the next day and that’s where things go to shit, but only for Shane personally, not for the team.

Because they meet Brady’s brother, Jeff, at the Foxes’ practice rink and they talk for a bit and Jeff says, “Oh, yeah, you were in Calgary last summer, right? I missed you by a week or something.” And of course Michael is standing right there and Michael is a smart guy and Shane probably looks like a tomato with a bad haircut right now, so it might not be that hard for him to put two and two together.

Michael says nothing about it, though. Not in the locker room, not when they go out for dinner, not when they head back to the hotel.

He’s for real Shane’s favorite person ever.

The thing is, though, Michael probably knows. And if Shane was a decent human being, he’d feel compelled to tell Brady that Michael knows, or at least suspects, that Shane nearly kissed him last summer. And that Brady nearly kissed him back. Because Brady should probably know that. And Shane does think himself to be a decent human being, but he has real trouble convincing himself to bring it up with Brady.

It’s not like he has a ton of chances to bring it up either.

They lose in Philly, mostly thanks to Brady’s brother, who scores two and gets assists on another two. Brady actually scores, it’s his fourth goal of the season, but it’s the only goal of the game, so it doesn’t get them anywhere. Shane has two great chances that he’ll have nightmares about for weeks. It’s the same in Brooklyn; great chances, not just for him, but for a lot of the guys, but they walk out with a loss.

The day after the game in Brooklyn they have a day off and New York is usually a great place to have a day off because there’s so much to do that you can barely fit it into a day, but this time, everyone just fucking abandons Shane.

He talks to Michael first and he tells him that he’s off to meet up with one of his friends from the German National Team, Robbie is obviously hanging out with his girlfriend, who came into town just for his day off, Oreo begs off to hang out with a former teammate who plays for the Mariners now, and at that point Shane starts fantasizing about a day where it’s just him and Brady. And Brady used to live here, so he probably knows about tons of cool stuff that Shane hasn’t even considered doing yet.

After their game in Brooklyn, Shane slides into the empty seat next to Brady on the bus, hoping he’s looking suave and not like he actually just tripped over a stray backpack strap. He usually doesn’t sit next to him, which is probably why Brady gives him a look. Either that or he saw that Shane just nearly fell flat on his face.

“Hey,” Shane says. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Oh, uh… I’m invited to a friend’s place for lunch.”

Right. Shane could have guessed as much, because Brady lived here for a year and everyone loves him, so obviously someone invited him over.

“Sorry,” Brady says, voice soft. “You wanna go somewhere for breakfast? I know some nice places.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Shane says. Which is… Why did he even say that? Of course he wants to have breakfast with Brady.

“Okay,” Brady says and it sort of sounds like a question.

Shane can’t blame him for being confused, because Shane’s confusing himself right now. He wishes he could go and sit somewhere else, but that would be weird and it’s not like any of this is Brady’s fault. So Shane sits next to Brady in absolute silence for the rest of their journey back to the team hotel.

He smiles at him before he gets up to get off the bus, so Brady won’t think he hates him, but then flees as quickly as possible and disappears to his room. Michael texts him to ask if he wants to hang out, but Shane tells him that he’s exhausted and just wants to go to bed. It’s not a total lie, because he really does want to lie down. On the floor. For about a hundred years.

Shane sleeps in the next morning and then spends about an hour on Twitter before he spends another half hour convincing himself that he should get up, even though there’s no point and he might as well stay in bed all day. He’s in New York, though. He likes New York. So he drags his ass out of bed and takes a really long shower, gets dressed and goes straight to Shakeshack, because it’s basically time for lunch anyway.

He wanders about for a bit, takes pictures at Times Square, sends them to Connor and to Hannah, who’s already flown home for Christmas and keeps sending him grumpy emojis. Shane should probably give her a call and ask her if everything’s okay. He’ll do that tonight. That way he doesn’t have to go to bed at nine and be sad because he somehow doesn’t have friends in this city like everyone else does.

He pops into a few stores, buys a bunch of souvenirs, but eventually gets out of there because there’s way too many people, and heads to Central Park. There’s probably gonna be tons of people at the zoo, too, but maybe it won’t be quite as bad as Times Square.

Shane gets sidetracked, though, because of course he does.

He’s at the park and he’s already asked three people if he can pet their dog, all three of which were delighted, and he’s having a stellar time, especially because the last dog’s owner, a tiny old lady with a labradoodle, told him that he was such a lovely young man and that her dog really seemed to like him. There’s no bigger compliment.

So he wanders onwards, a smile on his face, and then… he spots Brady. Which is fucking ridiculous because in this ginormous city, in this humongous park, there shouldn’t even be a sliver of a chance of just running into somebody like this.

Brady is with the Ravens’ captain, Elliot Cowell, and they’re both bundled into their coats and they’re sitting on a bench, close together, and they’re both smiling a little and Shane just can’t look away. He definitely shouldn’t stand here and stare at them, but it’s so obvious that they’re close, and Shane doesn’t like it. It makes his heart clench, seeing Brady this close to somebody else. And Shane doesn’t have any right to be jealous, he knows that, but he honestly can’t help it.

He can’t stop.

And then Brady looks at him. And Elliot Cowell looks at him. And it’s probably too late to just turn around and walk away.

So Shane waves.

And Brady waves back.

And Elliot Cowell waves him over.

Shane goes. Slowly. Wondering what in the hell he’s going to tell them, because this just looks weird, doesn’t it?

“Uh, hi,” Shane says.

“Hey,” Brady says. “Do you know Elliot?”

“I mean… sort of?”

“Hey, good to see you,” Elliot says with a smile. He’s unfairly good-looking and if that’s Shane’s competition, he doesn’t stand a fucking chance anyway. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, I was just heading to the zoo and then I got derailed by a bunch of really cute dogs,” Shane says with a shrug. It sounds like made-up bullshit, probably.

Brady snorts.

“The zoo’s great,” Elliot says. “You want company? I was gonna head home in a bit, but I know that Brady loves the zoo.”

Brady ducks his head. “Well…”

“Just don’t get impatient when he stops and talks to the penguins for half an hour.”

“I don’t talk to the penguins.”

“You do.”

Brady sighs. He won’t look at Shane, which has Shane thinking that he screwed something up majorly just now, even though he has no idea how or why. It’s not like he was following Brady around like some creeper.

Which is the first thing he says to Brady after Elliot has given Brady a hug and left the other way. “I didn’t mean to… I feel like I sort of barged in.”

“He was gonna head home in a bit anyway,” Brady mumbles.

“I just wasn’t, like… looking for you or anything.”

Brady’s steps slow. “Why would you be looking for me?”

Shane doesn’t know why he’s even still talking. He knows how red his face must be right now, but maybe he can blame it on the cold. “Exactly, why would I be looking for you?”

Brady laughs under his breath, a cloud rising up in the air between them. “You’re…”

“What?”

Brady shakes his head. “Nothing, let’s go talk to the penguins.”

“So you do talk to them?”

“I just tell them that they’re cute,” Brady says. “Because they are.”

“That’s valid,” Shane says. He wishes Brady would tell _him_ that he’s cute.

They stay until it starts to get dark, which is way too early, and then they get dinner at a place Brady likes. Shane tries to be normal. And not talk himself into yet another unfortunate situation. It works until they’re halfway through dinner. They were talking about normal things, things you talk about with teammates, but Shane is still too nosy for his own good, so he eventually stabs his steak and says, “So you and Elliot Cowell are close, huh?”

Brady looks up, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah?”

“That’s nice. He’s… nice.” And very good-looking and also the captain of his team and handsome and he gets invited to the All Star Game pretty much every year and he’s beautiful and he won the Rocket Richard last season and he has really nice hair. _God_. The worst thing is that Shane doesn’t even want to be jealous of Elliot Cowell, one of the most talented and popular hockey players of their generation.

“Yeah,” Brady says.

“Cool,” Shane mutters and turns his attention back to his steak, because obviously he can’t just go ahead and ask, _How close are you exactly?_ It’s really none of his business, but when he saw Brady and Elliot sitting on that bench together, they looked so cozy and Shane lost it a little bit. “This steak is really good.”

Brady smirks. “Right? This place is amazing, I really miss it.”

Great, so he’s not only jealous of Elliot Cowell, he’s also jealous of this entire fucking city. Because Brady would have totally stayed here if Denver hadn’t offered him way better terms and more money. He clearly misses living here and playing for the Ravens.

“Not that there aren’t great places to eat around Denver,” Brady says. “Those boneless wings at the Grill are the best I’ve ever had.”

Shane grins, because he loves it when other people love the Grill even though the furniture is old and everything’s a little greasy and sometimes the menus stick together. “And the garlic fries, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Brady says and laughs. “It should be everyone’s goal in life to find someone who loves them as much as you love those garlic fries.”

Shane would love Brady even more than he loves those garlic fries.

“They’re so good, I’m gonna get some when we’re back home.”

“Just fries?”

“Just a double order of fries, yeah.”

Brady grins. And shifts. And his foot knocks against Shane’s under the table and he leaves it there for a moment, and his eyes meet Shane’s like it’s intentional, but it can’t be, right? He shifts in his seat and then Brady’s foot is gone and Brady makes an offhand comment about a place with really good milkshakes that they should go to afterwards.

“Is it Shakeshack?” Shane says, trying desperately to shake off the feeling of Brady’s foot pressed against his.

Brady makes a face. “I really like their milkshakes.”

“Guess we’ll get milkshakes, then.”

Who gives a shit that Shane’s is going to Shakeshack the second time today? He refuses to feel bad about it and says yes when Brady suggests that they could get burgers tomorrow after practice.

It’s not just the two of them the next day, though. It’s them and Robbie and Oreo and Brady’s not even close to him and it’s probably for the best, because he definitely reached peak dumbass yesterday and he needs to chill. A lot. Once they’re in Hartford and he meets Connor for dinner, he talks about Brady for an hour. An extremely embarrassing hour. He never says his name and Connor never asks, he just listens and hums sympathetically and gives Shane a big hug before he drops him off at his hotel.

“You know,” Connor says, “maybe you should just go and get your man.”

“I can’t just… go and get my man.”

“Because of a rule you made up?”

Shane sighs. Of course Connor had to remind him that he did this to himself.


	25. Chapter 25

Christmas break is way too short. And Michael’s mom is cooking them way too much food.

Shane loves Michael’s mom, though. She’s this tall, blonde lady who wears very bright colors and could probably work as a professional chef. She cooks them whatever they want – or whatever Michael wants, but he always picks something amazing anyway – and sends them into the kitchen to clean up afterwards.

On the day she leaves, she watches practice from behind the glass with a few other parents who were around for the holidays. She goes wild in the team store afterwards and joins them in the parking lot with two ginormous bags full of Hawks merch.

“Shane, do you know… they make pucks with your face? Look here.” She hands Shane a puck that does indeed have his face on it.

“I did not know that.”

Michael says something in German and his mom replies and Michael laughs. He looks at Shane in the rearview mirror. “My mom bought it for herself, you should sign it for her.”

“Oh, for sure.”

He digs up a silver sharpie when they’re home and signs the puck _For Sigrid_. She shows them everything else she bought, too – a toy for their dog, a sticker for her car, a little jersey for her friend’s daughter, a sweater for her brother. And, “Shot glasses, Mama. Really?”

They drive her to the airport later and she hugs both of them goodbye, and when she wraps her arms around Shane, she says, “I hope we will see you in the summer.”

Shane hopes they’ll see him in the summer, too.

They wait until she’s through passport control and they can’t see her anymore, which seems to be a thing in the Fuchs family, and Michael looks like a kicked puppy when they head back to his car.

“What do you wanna do tonight?” Shane asks.

Michael shrugs. “Masterchef? And pizza?”

“Sounds good.”

They’re not gonna stay up too late anyway; they have an afternoon game tomorrow. It’s at three, which Shane would usually hate, but he loves it tomorrow since it’s New Year’s Eve and they’ll actually get to party for once. At Orlie’s, after the game.

Considering that it’s New Year’s Eve, and that it’s three in the afternoon, and that they’re playing against the Tigers, who are just about the tamest team in the league – no kidding – that game is really fucking wild. Luke’s still out with a concussion, so Bertie’s in goal, but it’s not really been a disadvantage, because Bertie’s been stellar. Honestly, Bertie’s been so stellar that Shane is kinda worried about Luke. Because Luke is just as good but Bertie’s a lot cheaper and they’re getting closer and closer to the trade deadline and depending on whether or not Luke is healthy by that time, someone might be interested in trading for him. As good as Bertie’s been, though, today he lets in three goals within the first ten minutes of the game.

Ronnie gets boarded right after the Hawks have changed goalies and he gets pulled off the bench for concussion protocol. At least they get a power play out of it. And Shane scores. He’s happy about it until he’s out there for his next shift and gets high-sticked in the face. He bleeds all over his jersey and can’t go out with his power play unit. They send Brady out instead, which is a great choice, and not only because he scores after about six seconds, but also because he winks at Shane when he sits back down on the bench. That’s definitely happened in a dream he’s had.

Before the first period is over, Orlie gets into a scrap with one of the Tigers’ defenders, and then the same defender gets into a fight with Niki right at the start of the second. They both get kicked out of the game for that one, but at least Ronnie’s back on the bench now. There’s another fight at the end of the second, everyone jumping on everyone, and Shane is actually glad that he’s not in the middle of that, because he’s already banged up enough. They’re tied at four at the end of the second, which is an improvement, but now the focus is mostly on people getting punched in the face. One of the Tigers tries to start shit with Shane in the third and he’s quickly rescued by Oreo, who gets escorted to the penalty box waving at their fans, who are all on their feet, cheering for him. Shane delivers his gloves and his stick to the penalty box and Oreo grins at him, like he’s having the time of his life and getting punched in the face is a fun New Year’s Eve activity.

By the end of the game the scores is 7-5 in the Hawks’s favor and Shane isn’t sure how he’s going to survive a party, because he kind of just wants to lie down and be asleep by the time midnight rolls around. He skates out for first star of the game, because he scored the empty netter on top of the goal he scored earlier and he also had an assist on Michael’s goal in the third, so he has to stay for an interview, joking around with Laura and hoping that she’ll let him go soon.

The best news is that Orlie’s wife is waiting for them with food and drinks, so within an hour of arriving at Orlie’s, Shane’s stuffed and tipsy and has forgotten that his entire body hurts. His face is warm and he’s slowly becoming one with the armchair he’s sitting in and when his drink is empty, Orlie immediately hands him another one. 2020 glasses get passed around, _Look, I have 2020 vision_ jokes are made, and eventually somebody puts a sparkly red tophat on Shane’s head.

He’s a little bit slow because they played a game earlier and because he’s actually pretty drunk at this point, so drunk that he might fall on his ass if he tried to get up, so he doesn’t pay attention to anything other than the game of charades that’s happening on his left. Shane has taken a peek at the homemade charades cards that Pad has brought and Ronnie is badly miming a grilled cheese sandwich right now. Nobody guesses what the fuck he’s doing, so Ronnie’s handed a very full tequila shot and then it’s Oreo’s turn.

Shane eventually has to get up because he needs to go to the bathroom and gets roped into a game of Cards Against Humanity in the kitchen afterwards. The problem is that Brady is also in the kitchen, cradling a bag of chips against his chest, slowly munching on them, his eyes on Shane whenever Shane looks over at him. And he looks over at him a lot. Which means that Brady’s looking back at him a lot, too. Which means, Shane’s brain, which is about 99% alcohol and wishful thinking, concludes that they’re looking at each other a lot.

_A lot_.

Brady’s so hot. Which is a lot, too, but in a different way.

Shane can’t fucking do this. It’s only ten. He has to be here for at least another two hours. The solution to his predicament, of course, is to have another drink. He eventually has to go to the bathroom again, but bumps into the end of a line of five people.

“Fuck’s sake,” Shane mumbles and retreats, because he can’t wait that long. There’s another bathroom down the hall, the one they use when Orlie’s throwing a pool party.

Orlie’s wife sees him as he shuffles past the kitchen door and throws him a stern look.

“Please?” Shane says.

“If you throw up, I make you clean the bathroom,” she says.

“I won’t, I swear.”

Honestly, he just really needs to pee.

She nods and lets him go, but then Brady’s next to him all of a sudden.

“Where are you going?”

“Secret bathroom,” Shane whispers and takes off down the dark hallway that’s made to look as least inviting as it could possibly be, so nobody gets the kind of idea that Shane just got. He’s surprised that Orlie’s wife didn’t put up one of those baby gates again. They’re ridiculously hard to open when you’ve had a few drinks. Although Oreo tried to climb over one of them during a party last season and fell on his face, so maybe that’s why they’re not in use anymore.

Shane ducks into the bathroom, glad that he remembered where it was and didn’t accidentally end up in a guest room. It’s a nice bathroom with a huge shower and a tower of fluffy pool towels. When he opens the door again, Brady’s still in the hallway, face mostly hidden in the shadows.

“All yours,” Shane says.

“I don’t really need to…” Brady glances down the hallway and pushes away from the wall.

“Okay,” Shane says.

Brady laughs. “We can just go back to the party.”

“Sure.” Shane frowns at him. Why’s he back here if he doesn’t need to– _Oh_. They were looking at each other a lot. Maybe that’s why. So he doesn’t move just yet and says, clumsily, “Or maybe not?”

Brady grins and takes a step closer right when Shane reaches out to pull him in by his shirt, so they end up stumbling back into the bathroom, Brady’s hands burning hot against Shane’s sides. Shane loses his sparkly hat and the glasses he’d put on top of it. He holds on to Brady and pushes him back against the door, even though Brady’s way taller than him, which means Brady is probably letting Shane push him around and Shane’s not even capable of processing that right now.

Brady gasps when his back hits the door and Shane pushes against him. They haven’t even kissed yet and Shane is already losing it, because Brady is touching him and he’s not shy about it, hands on Shane’s back now, pulling him in until Shane’s lips are on his and Shane totally doesn’t remember how to kiss people, or maybe he’s just too drunk or too excited to do it properly, but that kiss is so fucking messy. Not that he cares, not that Brady seems to care.

To think that he could have had this last summer.

“Lock,” Brady says between kisses, “the door. Lock it.”

Shane fumbles for the lock, trying hard to keep his lips on Brady’s, but it’s not working well.

Brady takes pity on him, pushes at him, locks the door and then turns back to Shane who’s just _staring_ at him, because he can’t believe this is actually happening right now.

“Okay,” Brady says and then goes and grabs Shane, hands dipping low, lingering against Shane’s ass for a moment, before he slides them down to Shane’s thighs, bends down a little and says, “Hold on.”

Shane does hold on and Brady lifts him up and a moment later he’s up on the marble countertop that surrounds the sink, a small stack of hand towels toppling over behind him, the soap sliding into the sink. He forgets about it almost instantly, because then Brady’s kissing him again and Shane is in an excellent position to wrap his legs around Brady’s hips and make sure he’s not going anywhere.

“Fuck, we can’t stay here forever, you know that, right?” Brady mumbles, his breath hitching when Shane kisses his neck.

Shane groans, because, yeah, they have to go back to the party, someone’s going to come looking for them eventually. Most likely Orlie’s wife. “Okay,” Shane says and kisses Brady again.

He’s kissing with way too much tongue right now, he knows it, but he’s too drunk to do anything about it. He should probably tell Brady that he’s not usually this bad at kissing. But he’d have to stop kissing Brady to tell him that, so he just keeps going. Fuck, he’d love to just take Brady home right now and blow his mind if Brady is in the mood for that kind of thing. He also wouldn’t mind taking him home and gently tucking him into his bed and waking up next to him tomorrow morning.

Brady’s lips are gentle against his, slowing down but not stopping just yet, his fingers in Shane’s hair, making a soft noise when Shane’s fingers dig into his sides in response. He tugs at his shirt, fingertips finding skin and Brady gasps, and Shane wants to keep drawing these noises from him, wants to really hear him when he’s not holding back.

When they eventually stop kissing, his forehead touching Brady’s, he really doesn’t have his thoughts together properly, but that doesn’t stop him from saying, “I really want to take you home.”

“I don’t think–”

“I know we can’t, but… Maybe I could fake an illness and you could offer to take me back?”

Brady laughs and kisses him very gently and definitely not as long as Shane wanted him to. “Why don’t you come to my house tomorrow?”

“Fine,” Shane mutters.

Brady nods and takes a step back and tucks his button-down back into his jeans. It’s somehow both sad and really hot. Shane doesn’t know if he can convince himself to move, and not just because of the boner that he needs to will away before he walks out that door.

“How does my hair look?” Shane asks.

“Good,” Brady says, “and like you just made out with someone in the bathroom.” He bends down – which is not helping, by the way – and picks up Shane’s sparkly hat and 2020 glasses and puts both of them back on Shane’s head. “There,” he says. He drags his fingers through his own curls and takes a deep breath. “Ready?”

“No,” Shane says. He just made out with Brady in a bathroom and now he’s supposed to just get up and go back to the party?

Brady stays right where he is, about a foot away from Shane, maybe a little nervous. “We can’t stay in here forever.”

“I know, I know that, just…” Shane shrugs. They’re gonna leave and what if they pretend that it didn’t happen _again_?

“Just?”

“We’ll do this again tomorrow, right?”

“If you want,” Brady says.

“Promise?” Shane says and holds out his pinky finger.

Brady hooks his finger around Shane’s. “Promise.”

Shane takes a few more deep breaths, then he slides off the countertop, picks up the soap and puts the hand towels back where they were and just like that it looks like they were never even here. “Okay,” he says.

Brady tugs Shane’s shirt back into place. “Okay,” he echoes and unlocks the bathroom door, slowly sticking his head into the hallway. He looks back at Shane and says, “See you in a bit.”

Shane nods and stays in the bathroom for another minute. He checks his phone. He was gone for like fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. When he returns to the kitchen a moment later, nobody even notices him, but when Orlie’s wife walks in with an empty chips bowl, she narrows her eyes at him.

“I didn’t throw up in the bathroom,” Shane says.

“Then you get to live,” she replies.

Shane looks around for Brady, but he obviously didn’t return to the kitchen and it would probably be weird if Shane went over to the living room and sat his ass down right next to Brady. He doesn’t want to annoy him five minutes after he kissed him for the first time.

He kissed him.

He can’t take that back. It happened. He broke the rule. His only rule.

He texts Connor. _tell me that rules are meant to be broken anyway_.

Connor just sends back the eyes emoji.

_cat blieve your asking for deets when im having them worst crisis of my life_ , Shane says.

_it’s fine_ , Connor replies.

_no?????_

“Hey.”

Shane looks up at Brady, who’s sidled up to him and is standing just close enough that his arm is touching Shane’s. Brady leans across the kitchen island and pulls a pile of pizza cartons over to him. They were kissing like… five minutes ago and now it’s already like it didn’t even happen.

What if Shane fell asleep in the bathroom and had a really vivid dream about kissing Brady but it didn’t actually happen?

“Hey,” Shane says, belatedly.

“You want one?” Brady asks as he pulls a cold slice of pizza out of one of the boxes.

“Uhh…”

“It’s pretty good,” Brady goes on and pulls at the carton until it’s hanging over the edge of the counter a little and then Brady’s fingers are on Shane’s thigh, just for a split-second.

They disappear when Michael, across the kitchen, says, “Hey, Wilder, Spicy, look at the camera.”

Shane looks up and puts his arm around Brady, because that’s what he does when someone’s taking a picture and Brady leans against him a little. He barely moves away when Michael’s done taking the picture. Nobody notices anyway, because then Michael tries to get six people in the same selfie and the closer together they are, the better. Shane has Oreo plastered against him on the other side and he’s pretty sure that Oreo is kissing him on the cheek in one of the pictures.

Michael posts seven of those pictures on Instagram a few minutes later, saying he picked the best ones, which Shane believes, because he took about thirty.

“I like that one,” Brady says as he watches Shane swipe through them. It’s the one where Pad stuck an ice cube down Oreo’s shirt and he was screaming his head off, everyone else laughing.

Shane likes that one, too, but he might like the one where Brady is giving him bunny ears a little better, because he was leaning in close.

Brady stands right next to him until midnight while Shane and Oreo chuck napkin balls at each other. When they all file into the living room as they inch closer to midnight, Michael quickly swipes up all the napkin balls and throws them in the trash.

In the living room, Orlie is handing out plastic champagne glasses. Shane’s never kissed anyone at midnight and he won’t kiss anyone tonight, but when they’ve successfully and without much of an effort made it to the next year, Shane checks his phone and finds, between the dozens of texts he’s received, a message from Brady. It’s just a kiss emoji, nothing else.

Shane sends one back and Brady smiles at him from across the room.


	26. Chapter 26

“What happened?” is the first thing Michael asks him when Shane shuffles into the kitchen in the morning. Late morning.

Shane stops in his tracks. He was super dead two seconds ago, but now he’s on high alert. “Why?”

Does he have a hickey? If he has a hickey, he’ll straight-up die.

“You look very happy,” Michael says, his smile smug as he hands Shane a cup of coffee.

“Oh.” No hickey. Good.

Michael leans back against the counter. He has a huge bruise on his thigh from when he blocked a shot a few days ago. “Do you want food? I think you had about twice as many drinks as me last night.”

“Uhhh… I’ll think about it,” Shane says. “I gotta head out in a bit.”

“To Robbie’s?”

“Whaaaa… Why, what’s at Robbie’s?”

“Bunch of the guys are watching the Winter Classic. You know, the ones that are still alive,” Michael says. “I’ll probably head over.”

“Oh. I don’t think I’ll come.”

Michael hums, smiling a little, and then sticks his head in the fridge. He pulls out cheese and butter and grabs the bread.

“I’ll take one of those,” Shane says and sits the fuck down, because standing up is terrible and even when he’s sitting down, lying down on the floor still seems weirdly appealing.

Michael makes them grilled cheese sandwiches, cuts them into triangles and sets a plate down in front of Shane. “Ton of butter on these,” he says.

“Good,” Shane mumbles and shoves as much as can into his mouth.

Michael cackles and sits down next to him.

“I’ll tell you,” Shane says once he’s finished his food. “I just need to… figure it out first.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I want to tell you.”

“Okay, but… don’t feel bad if you can’t,” Michael says. “I get it. It’s not… Sometimes you can’t say things.” He gets up and grabs their empty plates. “Do you want me to tell Robbie that you’re, uh… indisposed?”

“I don’t even know what that word means, but sure, tell him that. Unless it’s something dirty.”

Michael blinks at him. “It’s not.”

“I’m just gonna trust you on that one.”

Shane goes and takes a shower, because he probably smells like the tequila that Oreo poured over him at two in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to get up this morning, agonizing about whether or not he should text Brady and find out if last night actually happened, but then he saw the text that Brady had sent him disgustingly early – _come by whenever you want_ – and convinced himself that getting up was the only way to happiness.

Michael eventually heads out, leaving Shane in the living room, fully dressed and ready to go, unsure if he really wants to. What if Brady decided to go to Robbie’s to watch the Winter Classic and forgot to tell Shane about it and then he’ll go to Brady’s house and he won’t even be there? Or what if Brady’s there, but he only invited Shane over to gently tell him that he doesn’t want to kiss him ever again because last night was terrible? Or what if he tells him that they can’t kiss ever again because they’re teammates and it would make things too complicated?

Shane needs to get off his ass.

At least he’ll get to pet the dogs.

That’s what he thinks about when he gets in his car and when he drives to Brady’s place. The dogs. Not Brady. Just happy Golden Retrievers who will definitely be happy to see him.

He parks behind Brady, because that way Brady can’t hop in his car and drive away really fast if things go badly.

Shane fiddles with his phone and his keys and double-checks that he locked the car, like he has anything important in there, but it doesn’t matter how slowly he goes, because the dogs have spotted him and the door opens, revealing Brady, who looks surprisingly put-together and not at all like he’s close to death, so Shane’s already fucked. He’s not that attractive on a good day and today he has even less going for him.

Brady is sternly telling Chewie and Penny to stay, and they are, because they’re extremely good and wonderful, but they’re all over Shane as soon as he’s walked in through the door.

“Hey,” Shane says.

“Hi,” Brady says and smiles a little.

Shane smiles back at him. “Hey.”

“You just said that,” Brady whispers.

“Yeah.” Shane nods. “Hey.”

Brady steps closer and wraps his arms around him. “Hey,” he replies and then he leans in and gives Shane a kiss. But only one. “Come on in. I just ordered pizza, it’s gonna be here in a bit.”

“Oh, cool,” Shane says. He won’t say no to pizza, but he also wants to keep kissing Brady, since that’s apparently on the table. 

“We can watch the Winter Classic if you want.”

“Sure.”

“Or not,” Brady says.

“We can if you wanna see it,” Shane says. It’s the Ravens against the Foxes and Brady’s still friends with a bunch of the guys on the Ravens, so he probably does.

“Yeah and we should, you know… talk about… what happened.”

Shane nods. “We should.”

“Okay,” Brady says and nudges him into the living room.

Shane isn’t sure how close he’s allowed to sit, so he leaves some space between them, which is instantly taken up by Chewie, so there goes Shane’s plan to just very slowly inch closer to Brady while they watch the game.

It’s the first intermission right now and Shane doesn’t even know what the score is, but he’ll find out soon enough. The broadcast cuts from commercials to a recap of the first period a moment later and there’s Elliot Cowell, scoring the filthiest goal Shane has ever seen in his life.

“It’s not fair how good he is,” Shane says and then remembers that Brady is friends with him. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Brady laughs. “He’s actually a really humble guy.”

“Oh, I know, that’s not fair either.”

Brady laughs. “Yeah, he’s…”

“Perfect?” Shane suggests.

“You know, it’s funny, because…”

“What?”

Brady tilts his head. “Well, I talked to Elliot a couple of days after we were in New York and he said he thought you were jealous.”

“Oh, great, even Elliot Cowell knows that I have a huge fucking crush on you,” Shane grumbles.

“You have a crush on me.”

Shane looks at him. “I mean, I kissed you in Orlie’s bathroom last night, what did you think that was?”

“I mean–”

The dogs both take off running.

“Pizza,” Brady says, resigned, and gets up to get it.

The good news is that there’s no dog between them when Brady sits back down. In fact, there’s no dogs at all when Brady returns with the pizza.

“They’re in the kitchen until we’re done eating, it’s better that way,” Brady tells him when Shane looks around.

“But they’ll come back?” Shane says.

Brady laughs. “Maybe.”

Shane stacks two slices of pizza on top of each other and shoves them into his mouth, his stomach roiling, but that’s mainly because he just told Brady that he has a crush on him and now they’re eating pizza like it didn’t happen.

He puts down his two pizza crusts. “Just… for the record… I would totally kiss you in Orlie’s bathroom again, but if you just want to forget that it happened, we can forget about it and never talk about it again.”

Shane takes a deep breath. He was going to tell Brady something else yesterday.

Right.

“And I’m not usually that bad at kissing,” he adds, “I was just drunk.”

“I actually didn’t think it was that bad,” Brady says, smirking at him, “but I was also kinda drunk, so…”

“I can, you know…” Shane shakes his head. He was not about to suggest that he can just show Brady how good of a kisser he is. That would be weird. And Shane is not weird.

“Listen,” Brady says, “before we… do anything–”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay, just… let me explain? Because there are a hundred things going on in my head right now and I don’t even know where to start. I mean, do I start by telling you that I thought I was straight until about a year ago or that, since I thought I was straight, I hadn’t kissed a guy before… well, last night. And then there’s also the fact that we’re teammates, which probably makes this sort of inappropriate, so… yeah.”

Shane lets out a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“That was a lot. I’m sorry. I… didn’t know what to do. Because how did I not know this about myself, you know? How did I never really notice? Or did I notice and I just tried to push it away and never think about it? I still don’t know. And I don’t wanna dump all of this on you, because you… I got the feeling that you knew what you were doing, so you’ve probably been with other guys and I don’t even know if you want to deal with all of this.”

“I…”

“It’s okay if you don’t.”

“No, I just… like you so much.”

“Oh,” Brady says and leans back. “I wasn’t sure, because–”

“I kissed you in Orlie’s bathroom,” Shane says.

“Yeah, but– Before. When you came to visit in the summer, we…”

“Yeah.”

“But then I got traded here and I thought it’s probably better if I don’t…”

“Yeah.”

“But then I thought maybe you did want to…”

“Yeah.” Shane is dying over here. Because they could have figured this out a long time ago if it wasn’t for his ridiculous rule. “I sort of have this rule. That I won’t date other players or… sleep with any, because that makes thinks so complicated, especially when it doesn’t work out and when you’re on the same team it’s even worse.”

Brady nods. “Right. Yeah, I figured it was a bad idea, but I guess I was drunk enough that didn’t care. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“No, don’t apologize.”

Brady sighs. “So you don’t date other players, huh?”

“I think we’re way past that. Because if I don’t get to date you, I’ll probably die. I know that’s a bit dramatic, but I really want to keep kissing you.”

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s… keep doing that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Shane laughs. “You just said that.”

“I’m nervous as shit.”

“So am I.”

“You don’t seem nervous,” Brady says. “At all. I’m sweating.”

Shane is also sweating. He’s fucking losing it, but he’s doing everything he can to hide it. “Oh my God. Okay. We need to… We’ll figure everything out,” Shane says. He has to figure it out, because he’s a little bit in love with Brady and there’s no way in hell that he’s letting himself fuck this up. Brady likes him. Brady wants to kiss him some more. They’re gonna… Shane scoots a little closer.

And so does Brady.

And then Brady kisses him again and today Shane isn’t drunk, so he actually sort of knows what he’s doing. He pulls Brady closer, into his lap. Today he knows where he’s putting his hands, knows exactly what he did when Brady makes a soft noise against his mouth, remembers it, tucks it away for later.

He grabs Brady by the hips and pushes him back onto the couch and they keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Shane kisses Brady’s cheek and his neck and Brady moans, his fingers digging into Shane’s sides.

Shane desperately wants to grind down against him, but they’re not there yet, Brady literally just told him that he hadn’t even figured out he was into guys and, “Oh shit, I was the first guy you kissed.”

Brady blinks up at him. “Yeah?”

“I feel like I should… I don’t know. This is okay, right?”

“I’ve kissed other people. Women. But, yes, kissing. I’ve done that.”

“Good,” Shane says. “So I was… your bi awakening?”

“I don’t even know. It’s really confusing. I thought I knew myself, but turns out that I don’t. I called Jeff at three in the morning when I realized that I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You told your brother about me?”

“No, not about you, just that there’s a guy. I’m afraid Elliot knows that it’s you, though.”

“Elliot knows everything?”

Brady doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Is that bad?”

“No,” Shane says. What is bad is that they’re having this conversation while he’s awkwardly hovering over Brady. So he sits back. He has a confession to make, too. “Michael sort of knows, too.”

Brady sits up. “Foxie?”

“Yeah. I didn’t tell him it’s you, but he’s probably guessed at this point, because I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“No, you were,” Brady says. “You really were.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane whispers.

Brady leans back. He looks soft, wearing an old gray shirt, curls sticking up. He chews on his bottom lip and he looks so good and Shane isn’t sure if he wants to kiss him or touch him or take off his clothes or if he should try to do all of those things at the same time. Actually, he should probably keep apologizing.

“I wasn’t sure if you really wanted to kiss me last summer, because with some guys it’s, like, when they’re drunk…”

“The gay jumps out?”

Shane laughs. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t majorly misread the situation. And I… This is… We have to make sure nobody finds out about this, because if anyone does, we’re screwed.”

“Right,” Brady says and takes a deep breath.

“Are you scared?” Shane asks. He’s been scared that the wrong person might find out ever since he can remember.

“I’m… a lot of things.”

Shane gets it, he really does. He just had more time to feel all those things. Brady has been feeling them all in a year. So he reaches out and puts his arm around Brady, because he didn’t say that he wasn’t scared.

Brady melts against him with a sigh. “I really like you.”

Shane is about to go into absolute meltdown mode because Brady likes him. Brady _likes_ him. Shane has to be cool about this, so he doesn’t scare the shit out of Brady with all the feelings he’s having. “That’s super convenient,” he says, “because I really like you, too.” That was okay, right? That wasn’t too much.

He likes being held, honestly, there’s not that many things that are better than pillowing your head on someone’s chest and maybe dozing while they play with your hair and you can sort of feel their heartbeat a little and it doesn’t matter if it’s cold outside because you’re warm anyway.

But holding Brady? Best thing in the world. Seriously.


	27. Chapter 27

Shane is sort of watching the game, but not really, because he’s more focused on Brady, who’s still slumped against him. Shane’s just gonna go with it. If Brady wants to sit here like this for five hours, Shane is down.

It only lasts about three minutes anyway, because Brady sits up with a, “Oh my God, Jeff is such a dick.”

Brady’s brother is having words with one of the Raven’s wingers whose stick he just held on to after the whistle, which is not a penalty but definitely a dick move. Now Elliot Cowell’s getting involved and he’s unmistakably telling the Foxes’ Noah Andersson to fuck the hell off.

“Love it when two of the most handsome people in the NHL start screaming at each other,” Shane says.

Brady snorts. “You think they’re handsome, huh?”

“I mean, not as handsome as you, but…” Shane glances over at Brady, who seems to be trying really hard to bite down a smile. Looks like Shane didn’t just fuck everything up because he called two other dudes handsome. It was just an objective observation anyway. The straightest man on Earth can see that Elliot Cowell and Noah Andersson could have had a career in modelling.

Brady grabs another slice of pizza. “So… uh…” He leans back against the couch, barely an inch of space between them. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“It’s kinda personal.”

“Just ask,” Shane says. Once he’s made out with someone, there’s honestly not a lot that he wouldn’t tell that person about himself. Except maybe that… he once ate a booger. When he was already an adult. Nobody can ever know about that.

“You’re into guys,” Brady says.

“Yeah.”

“Just guys?”

Shane nods. “I tried to be into girls, but that… didn’t work. At all.”

“So, you always sort of knew?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t some huge revelation or anything, it was… I was dating this girl for a while and I didn’t like being with her or anything, I was just dating her because I figured that’s what I’m supposed to do, right? And then the thing with the blowjobs in the closet happened and after that I didn’t really try to date women anymore.”

“The thing with the blowjobs in the closet?”

Shane could have kept that one to himself, at least until the exes conversation. Too late now. “Yeah. I was a teenager, I didn’t realize that it was pretty much the worst idea ever.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I…”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Shane asks, because it’s not nothing and they both know it.

Brady takes another slice of pizza, but he doesn’t eat it. “I don’t really know how blowjobs work.”

Shane raises his eyebrows at him.

“You know what I’m saying,” Brady grumbles. “I’ve only been… on the receiving end.”

“And you can be again if you want,” Shane says.

Brady laughs.

“Seriously, though, we don’t have to…” Shane is getting so far ahead of himself here. They haven’t even really talked about what sort of relationship this is going to be, because _let’s keep kissing_ isn’t the same as _let’s be boyfriends_.

Brady smiles a little. “It’s okay, I know that we’re sort of on different levels and that you’ve done… well, everything–”

“I wouldn’t say _everything_.”

“You’re a lot closer to everything than I am. So… I don’t know, I just want you to know where I’m at, I guess? Because this is definitely gonna be awkward if we keep doing this and get past the kissing.”

“So you… want to get past the kissing?” Shane asks.

Brady squirms and tugs at his shirt. “I mean… eventually. Yeah. Just don’t expect me to know how blowjobs work or anything.”

“Does anyone really know how blowjobs work, though? You just put someone else’s dick in your mouth and hope for the best,” Shane says.

Brady laughs, but it’s not that one-time.snort kind of laugh, it’s full-on giggles and Shane can’t help but laugh with him. “I’m sorry,” Brady grits out eventually, “I was so anxious about everything this whole time and now we’re just sitting here talking about dicks.”

“I honestly don’t have a lot of people that I can just talk to about dicks,” Shane says.

“Well, I guess you have me now. And you said Michael knows?”

“He knows that I’m into dicks, but I can’t say that we’ve had a lengthy conversation about them. I’ve talked to Connor about guys. And to Robbie, a few times, but…” Shane shrugs. “It’s not like I’d give them any details.”

“I mean, I’m sort of relieved that you’re not gonna go and tell Robbie about my dick. Or… anyone else.”

Shane laughs. “They couldn’t handle it.”

“So you don’t know anyone else who’s…”

“I mean, there’s the guy who was involved in the blowjobs in the closet thing. I still see him sometimes when I’m at home to visit my parents. And my ex, but I’m not in touch with him anymore.”

“No one in the league?”

Shane shakes his head. When he was just starting out, during his rookie year, he sometimes wondered if there were other guys and who they were and if he could find them, talk to them, see how they’re dealing with it. He had his suspicions here and there, but he was never sure, just like he wasn’t sure with Brady for the longest time. It’s not like anyone’s walking around with a shirt that says, _Hey, I’m gay!_

“I’ll introduce you to some people,” Brady says.

“Yeah?”

Brady nods.

“Other players?” Shane asks.

“Yeah… I had…” Brady clears his throat. “When I had my bisexual identity crisis, Elliot sort of talked me through it.”

“He… did?”

“Yeah,” Brady says. “I’ll introduce you to him when the Ravens are here in a few weeks, okay? I mean, properly.”

“Cool,” Shane says. He does not know how he feels about properly meeting Elliot Cowell, not because he’s intimidating or anything, he’s just this absolutely amazing guy who’s good at everything and nice to everyone and Shane will probably be a huge fanboy about _actually_ meeting Elliot and talking to him for longer than five minutes.

“Are you still jealous?”

Shane huffs. “I was never jealous.”

Brady shoots him a look.

“Okay, I was, but… He’s really hot and I figured if he was, like… an option for you, you’d totally go with him.”

“He’s not an _option_ , he’s just one of my best friends.” Brady laughs. “Oh my God.”

“Don’t laugh,” Shane grumbles.

“Are you gonna be okay with me being friends with Elliot or are you–”

“Of course I’m okay with it.”

“Good. He’s practically married anyway.”

Shane sighs. “You’re gonna make fun of me for this for a hundred years, aren’t you?”

“Two hundred at least,” Brady says.

Shane rolls his eyes and leans his head back against the couch, eyes on Brady, who’s looking back at him, a smile still lingering on his face.

“Speaking of introductions,” Shane says. “My sister’s coming to the game in Boston and she really wants to meet you. And, just for the record, I told her not to ask you for your number, but she might do it anyway.”

“That’s okay, I can always give her Zach’s number. He has this weird thing going on with his girlfriend, they keep breaking up and getting back together. He’s single right now, though,” Brady says. “She can have him.”

Shane groans and closes his eyes. “I don’t want to think about my sister dating anyone ever.”

“Isn’t she in college?”

“Listen. I know. I was in college. I know what happens. I know what she’s doing. I just… don’t wanna think about it.”

Brady reaches out to nudge Shane. “I’m sorry for even putting the thought in your head.” But he’s not sorry at all. Little shit. Brady gives Shane’s chin a gentle tap. “That cut looks bad.”

Shane covers that side of his face with his hand. “How about now?”

“Now you look like the Phantom of the Opera,” Brady says.

Shane makes a face and Brady leans in to kiss him again. They miss the end of the game. They actually don’t notice that it’s ended until the dogs start barking in the kitchen. Brady, who has Shane pinned to the couch, looks up. “It’s probably just a squirrel or something.” He sighs and leans his head down against Shane’s chest. “I should check on them.”

Shane hums and drags his fingers through Brady’s curls, lightly scratching at the back of his neck and Brady stays very still for a long moment before he sighs again and gets up.

Chewie is next to Shane in the blink of an eye, tail wagging as he jumps onto the couch and full-on lies down on top of Shane. “Hey, buddy,” Shane says and starts petting him. “Good boy. You’re a good boy. The absolute best.”

Brady comes back with Penny in tow. “So… I should probably take them out. Although Chewie clearly loves being your new blanket.”

“No, we can take them,” Shane says and scratches Chewie behind his ear. “Right? We should go for a walk.”

When he says the word _walk_ , Chewie sits up, paws digging into Shane’s stomach.

“Chewie, no, get off,” Brady says, “come on. Sorry, I should have warned you.”

“It’s okay, he can walk all over me if he wants.”

Shane follows Chewie off the couch and he and Brady both put on their coats and Brady finds him a pair of gloves to borrow and they head outside for a little while, the dogs excited about the snow, Brady and Shane following them, less excited because it’s fucking freezing and Shane’s really bummed out about the fact that he can’t just reach out and take Brady’s hand.

There’s always space between them as they walk, always enough that nobody could mistake them for anything other than good friends. They turn around quickly. Once Brady unlocks his door for them, Shane’s nose is a block of ice and totally about to fall off.

Brady pushes the door shut and pulls off his hat.

“My cheeks are so cold,” Shane says.

“Are they?” Brady reaches out to squish Shane’s cheeks.

“See?”

“Freezing cold,” Brady says and pulls Shane closer. His nose is cold too when it touches Shane’s before he kisses him. “Are you gonna stick around a little while longer? I can make us something for dinner in a bit. Or we can order more food. It’s too bad that the Grill doesn’t deliver.”

“Seriously,” Shane says. “It’s their only flaw.”

Brady laughs. “And maybe that the menus are sticky.”

Shane gives him a shove. “You’re right but you shouldn’t say it.” He looks around, at Penny, who’s still in the hallway with them, looking up at him, like she’s waiting for him to pet her. He gives her head a quick scratch and she pushes closer, convincing him to kneel down and give her a belly-rub. It’s what she deserves.

“They know,” Brady says.

“That I’m an idiot who would do anything for them?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s okay,” Shane says and keeps on petting Penny. “They’re right.”

“Come on, we can just go sit down, she’ll come with us,” Brady says and leads the way into the living room

When Brady sits down on the couch, Shane sits on an armchair, because they still have some things to hash out and this way they won’t accidentally start making out again. That’s definitely derailed a conversation earlier. “I feel like we need to… you know, establish… things.”

“Things,” Brady says, nodding.

“Like, we’re not gonna tell anyone about this, right?”

“Right.”

“Except for the people that already know?” Shane goes on. “Like, Michael.”

“And Elliot,” Brady says.

“Yeah. And we’ll… be… dating?”

Brady smiles. “Yeah.”

“And we’ll…” Shane clears his throat. He really wants to take Brady out on a proper date, but he knows that he can’t, because there’s too many people around here who might recognize them out in public. “We won’t… I don’t know. I wanna take you out for dinner or something, and I can, but it’ll just be us… being friends… at a restaurant.”

“Shane…” Brady says.

“It’s so complicated. I’m sorry that it’s so–”

“Hey, we’ll figure it out.” Brady shrugs. “We’ll hang out and we’ll figure out what we’re both comfortable with and you can always come over and if Michael’s cool with it, I can come to yours. And we’ll be careful when we’re on the road.”

Shane nods.

“I’ll ask you before I tell anyone else,” Brady says.

Shane nods again.

“We’ll make it work.”

Another nod. How is Brady talking him through this right now? Shouldn’t he be the one who knows how to handle this? Shane has never felt more out of his depth.

“Why are you sitting all the way over there?” Brady asks.

“I was kinda worried that I’d just start making out with you again instead of talking to you about important… things.”

“Good point,” Brady mumbles. Penny hops up onto the couch and puts her head in Brady’s lap.

“But… now… I think… we could go back to… that,” Shane says. “I just wanted to make sure that we’re on the same page about, you know…”

“Yeah, I know. I get it. I’m… I told you, I don’t even know what’s going on in my head half the time.”

“I wanna come back over there now,” Shane says.

“Penny,” Brady whispers and gives her a nudge, “make room for Shane.”

“I’m always gonna be competing against the dogs,” Shane says when he sits down in the spot that Penny just vacated with reluctance. Penny puts her head in his lap instead. “So…”

“So,” Brady says and slowly tips his head until it bumps against Shane’s. “What do you wanna do?”

Shane honestly wouldn’t mind just sitting here for several hours, so he says, “This is fine.”

“This?”

“Yeah.”

Brady turns his head and kisses Shane’s temple. “Okay.”

Shane sighs and closes his eyes. “Okay.”

They end up putting on a movie, but they start making out about five minutes into it and half an hour later, they start looking at takeout menus, and Shane knows all of those places and has his favorites at every single one, but he just can’t decide what he wants right now.

“You know, we can go to the Grill if you want,” Brady says when Shane has been going back and forth between Chinese and Indian for fifteen minutes.

“But then we have to leave the house,” Shane says. “And then I have to stop touching you. Which is… not good.” And then the day will be over and he’ll have to go home and then he’ll go to sleep and tomorrow he’ll show up at the rink and pretend that he’s never had a single feeling for Brady in his entire life.

“Or we can go grab the food there and come back here after.”

“Yeah?” Shane says. It’s ridiculous, because they could just order fried rice and orange chicken and have it delivered to Brady’s door, but Shane really wants a burger and garlic fries.

“Yeah,” Brady replies.

Shane is _so_ in love with him.


	28. Chapter 28

The January schedule isn’t kind to them.

It’s a lot of coming and going, back-to-back games, the mentors’ trip and a roadie to the East Coast strewn in. They’re home for three days, which Shane spends at the rink, at the arena, and on Brady’s couch. He still tries not to look at Brady in the locker room, because they haven’t engaged in any activities that would have involved taking their clothes off, and when they’re in the locker room, they’re at work.

So Shane minds his own business. Until he gets to Brady’s after practice.

After their last home game before they hit the road for the first time this month, Shane sidles up to Brady. “Hey, you wanna come hang at my place for a bit?”

Because they agreed that they had to be more careful on the road, so they might not be able to spend a ton of time together. They’ll only be gone for two games, San Diego and LA, but they have a day off in LA, so it’s still a five-day roadie.

“I need to get home, sorry,” Brady says. “Dogs are waiting.”

“Right.”

“You can come to mine.”

“I gave Michael and Robbie a ride, so I don’t know if it’s…” He shrugs. He could just go to Brady’s and stay the night, but he’s not going to invite himself into a guy’s bed, especially when that guy has told him that he wants to take it slow. Now, he could invite Brady to stay the night at his place, because Michael’s all caught up on the Brady situation, but he’s promised himself that he’d do his very best to make sure Brady would never feel pressured into anything.

“Yeah, no, you should go home and get some sleep,” Brady says, “we’re leaving early tomorrow.”

They have a late skate in San Diego after they arrive and they go out for dinner with the rest of the team and afterwards they all head back to their rooms. When Shane falls into bed, he has a goodnight text from Brady waiting for him. Brady always replied to him quickly and he always sent texts just because, but now Brady texts him so many little extra things. Shane’s favorite is the kiss emoji he gets every single day when Brady goes to bed.

They see each other the next day, at breakfast, at morning skate, but it’s a game day and they both have their routines, so they part ways in the afternoon, they play their game – a nasty 6-1 loss that Shane will try to forget as fast as possible – and then they immediately head to LA, the guys making plans for the next day.

Shane was hoping that he might have Brady to himself all day, but there’s a Disneyland conversation happening behind him and Brady, across the aisle, is listening with keen interest. Somebody definitely wants to hang out with Mickey, and Shane wants to hang out with Brady, so Disney it is.

Their first stop of the morning is the Royal Hall to take a group picture with Rapunzel, they go on a ride together, but they end up going their separate ways after lunch, so Shane finally has Brady to himself. They run into the Fairy Godmother and Brady drags him into the line to take pictures with her before they move on to a place that Shane understands. He just says, “Stormtroopers,” and goes, Brady laughing as he follows him.

They buy Mickey Mouse cake pops and sit next to each other on a low wall, Brady’s thigh pressed against his, the sheer amount of people forcing them closer together. If they were just another couple, Shane could lean his head against Brady’s shoulder, maybe he could even take his hand as they wander back to the castle to meet the other guys for dinner. He probably spends too much time daydreaming about what his relationships would be like if he wasn’t a hockey player.

Before they head back to the hotel, too exhausted to stick around for the fireworks, Brady says he needs to buy gifts, at which point everyone else starts mumbling about maybe getting something for their girlfriend, so Shane tags along and grabs a cap with mouse ears for Hannah. It looks like the sort of thing she’d wear. He needs a gift for her anyway, because he’s meeting her in Boston.

“She’s not into princesses?” Brady asks.

“I mean, she’s in college, isn’t she too old for–”

Brady shakes his head. “Get her something with a princess on it.”

“This hat is really cool, though?”

“You can get her two things, you’re rich.” Brady points at a sweater that has, like, every single princess on it. “That one.”

Shane takes it, because Brady’s outing himself as an expert here. If he tells Hannah that Brady picked it for her, she’ll probably cry.

They head back to the hotel and they trickle back to their rooms, but Brady sticks with Shane, saying, “Hey, I think you still have my phone charger,” and Shane says, “Yeah, I do,” and pats himself on the back for not saying, _What phone charger?_

Brady slips into the room with Shane and as soon as the door is closed, Brady drops his bag and kisses him, lips soft against Shane’s, whose lips have been cracked all winter. There’s not enough lip balm in the world to save him, but he does his best. Except when he forgets that he owns lip balm.

“Sorry,” Brady says after a moment and takes a quick step back. “I know we said we weren’t gonna–”

“It’s fine.” Shane takes off his shoes and tugs Brady over to his bed. “Stay for a bit? No one’s gonna notice. We’re just hanging out.”

“Really just for a bit, though,” Brady says and tumbles into bed with him.

It’s only been a few days since they left Denver, but it’s like he hasn’t kissed Brady in a year, like he’s forgotten what it feels like and needs a reminder. A lot of reminders. Brady clambers on top of him, straddling his hips, head dipped down to kiss the corner of Shane’s mouth, the line of his jaw, that spot right below his ear, Shane shivering underneath him, not just because of the press of Brady’s lips against his skin but also because Brady knows exactly what he likes and can reduce him to a complete mess already. He wants nothing more than for Brady to push him down and have his merry way with him.

Brady’s careful about it, though, every movement calculated, his breath hitching when Shane’s hands move along his sides and slip under his shirt, finding soft, warm skin. Brady hums, eyelids fluttering. His nose bumps against Shane’s just before he stills.

“We need to stop,” Brady says. “I’m sorry, but we’re… in a hotel room. And we’re on the road. With our team. I can’t–”

“It’s okay,” Shane says and lets go of him, hoping Brady won’t just bolt now. “We can just–”

“I should go.”

“Oh,” Shane says. He was honestly trying not to sound too disappoint, but it does come out sounding like he is really fucking disappointed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t… Just sit down for a second?”

“Okay,” Brady whispers and sits down next to him, upright, like he’s ready to hop out of bed and go.

Shane sits up, too, makes sure to leave some space between them and takes Brady’s hand, laces their fingers together slowly, and he stops right there. That’s enough.

Brady glances over at him.

“Okay?” Shane asks.

“Yeah.”

Shane leans his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes, Brady’s hand warm in his. Brady lets out a soft breath, almost a sigh of relief. Shane is too tired to feel terrible about all that kissing that might have led them on the road to debauchery. He’s so fucking exhausted and they didn’t even skate today. Granted, Disneyland is always exhausting and he has to be up early for morning skate tomorrow, so falling asleep as soon as possible is in his best interest anyway.

He really needs a day off where he does absolutely nothing and just lies on the couch and eats a lot of food and watches movies all day. Preferably with Brady. After the Boston game, it’ll be the All Star Break, followed by the Hawks’ bye week – Shane is going absolutely nowhere and was delighted to hear that Brady will be going absolutely nowhere with him. He’s going to sleep for twelve hours every day, hopefully with Brady in his bed. Michael’s meeting his mom in New York and he’s taking her to a bunch of Broadway shows, so Shane will even have the house to himself.

They head straight back to Denver after the game the next day, a shootout win that goes to eight rounds. Shane scores for once, not usually too successful in shootouts, but it’s not the goal that wins them the game, so it barely even matters.

When he and Michael get home, he falls straight into bed, setting his alarm with a groan. No game the next day, but they have practice at noon. At least he’ll get food at the rink. January is already three months long, but they also have the mentors’ trip next week and then one game at home before the East Coast roadie at the end of the month, so January will probably take about a year.

Practice the next day is a little shorter than usual and they goof around for a bit towards the end, the coaches taking it easy on them after their late return to Denver. Afterwards, he drops off Michael at home and heads over to Brady’s, where he’s greeted by two exceptionally excited dogs and Brady, who looks about as ready for a nap as Shane feels.

“Hey,” Shane says and reaches for him, Brady stepping right into his arms, giving him a quick kiss before he pulls him into the living room with him, the dogs following at their heels.

“Thanks for coming over,” Brady says. “I know we’re barely ever at yours, but I feel bad when I leave them alone right after I came back from a roadie.”

“I get it,” Shane says and starts scratching Penny’s head. “The best girl needs some love.” Chewie’s head is on his knee a moment later. “And the best boy, too.” He grins at Brady, who’s leaning back against a cushion, a lazy smile on his face. “Sorry, but I’m just gonna be petting them the entire time.”

“I’m gonna lock them in the kitchen again,” Brady says.

“No, let them stay, I’ll stop, right, you two? I’ll stop and you’ll be so good.” He gives each of them another pat and then he leans across to Brady, because now they can finally make out in peace again.

Chewie climbs up on the couch to take a nap, while Penny lies down on her pillow across the room for a snooze, and Shane is not jealous of the dogs because they get to sleep, he seriously isn’t, because he gets to kiss Brady, which he hasn’t done in– Okay, he kissed him two days ago.

Brady tugs Shane closer by his shirt, kisses him once, twice, and then Shane flops down on top of him with a sigh. He tucks his face into the crook of Brady’s neck and mumbles, “Hey, can we–”

“Take a nap?” Brady finishes. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Oh my God, I’m so happy you said that, I’m so fucking tired, but I also wanna spend time with you, but also… if I fall sleeping while kissing you, you’ll probably kick me out of your house and never speak to me again.”

“It’s fine, let’s…” Brady clears his throat. “You wanna go upstairs?”

Upstairs. To Brady’s bedroom. Which Shane has seen, but he’s never spent a significant amount of time in it. He’s going to get to sleep next to Brady in an actual bed, he’s going to combust. “Uh, sure, yeah, that’s probably… more comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Brady says and tugs him upstairs, Chewie watching them go with little interest while Penny follows them to the stairs, probably to make sure that Brady isn’t going to put food in her bowl.

Shane follows Brady, suddenly not sure what the protocol is here. He’s never slept with a guy without, well, sleeping with him first. When Brady nudges him into his room, he doesn’t even know if he’s allowed to, like, sit on the bed, but Brady just dives right in and beckons Shane to do the same, so he climbs into bed and fits himself against Brady. He never took naps with Toby like this. To Toby, taking a nap meant wasting time he could spend doing other stuff.

“You good?” Shane asks, because maybe he’s too close.

Brady hums and turns his head, the tip of his nose bumping against Shane’s. “We don’t need an alarm, right?”

“Nah,” Shane says and closes his eyes and falls asleep within a minute to the sound of Brady’s quiet breathing, too exhausted to even register all the places they’re touching, or the way Brady settles against him, with his nose nudging his temple, or how Brady’s fingers curl around one of the strings of Shane’s hoodie. He just passes out and everything’s right in the world.

When he wakes up, it’s much darker in Brady’s room, snow gently drifting past the window. Brady is still fast asleep, mouth open just a little. Shane could count his eyelashes right now. He has the tiniest scar right on his jawline, so tiny that Shane hadn’t even noticed it before, but now that he has time to look– He’s being a real creeper right now, isn’t he?

Shane would hate it if someone was watching him while he was sleeping. One time, Oreo took pictures of him while he was taking a nap and Shane made him delete them, from his camera roll and from the deleted pictures folder. He was drooling, for fuck’s sake. Oreo probably wouldn’t have posted them anywhere, because he does have a shred of decency left in him, but Shane was offended by the mere existence of those pictures.

So he only stares a little. At Brady’s fingers, splayed on the sheets between them, at the bracelets on his wrist. His eyes eventually dip down to where Brady’s shirt has ridden up, revealing just a sliver of soft, brown skin. He jumps when Brady sniffles, his eyelids fluttering when he wakes up.

“Ugh,” Brady says.

“Hey.”

“You sound _really_ awake. Please tell me you haven’t been awake for an hour and have been waiting for me to wake up.”

“Nah,” Shane says and pulls Brady in and kisses his neck. He also gets a mouthful of hair, but he can live with that, because Brady laughs quietly and snuggles closer.

“I have to get up and feed the dogs,” Brady mumbles into Shane’s sweater.

“Five more minutes?” Shane says.

“Ten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in extra stories and how to get them, please head over to thesameoldstreets.tumblr.com!


	29. Chapter 29

They’ve been on the East Coast for nearly a week.

And Shane is really proud of himself and Brady, because they’ve mostly kept their hands off each other, except for a few stolen kisses and a somewhat longer kiss in Montreal that lasted for about… half an hour. Still, they’ve been good and when Oreo knocked on Brady’s door to ask him if he wanted to have dinner with him and Robbie, there was no scrambling, or boners or anything else unfortunate to hide and Brady could go and open the door, with Shane sitting on his bed, playing on his phone. No big deal.

Now they’re in Boston. One more game tomorrow, then they’re going home.

They had practice in the morning, had a team lunch, and they’re meeting Hannah for dinner tonight, but in between there’s a whole lot of nothing. A bunch of the guys went out to explore, but Shane took Brady to his room, loudly talking about a movie they both wanted to watch as they got on the elevator with a bunch of their teammates.

Shane did put on a movie. He didn’t even care which one, because the second he was sitting on his bed with Brady, they started kissing and the movie became background noise.

He’s definitely trying not to take this too far, because he’s sticking to what they talked about, but their hands wander and their kisses grow deeper and it’s not like Brady is telling him to stop and they’re just kissing anyway. He can feel Brady, though, hard against his thigh and Shane moves, just the tiniest bit, but it has Brady’s fingers clenching in Shane’s hair, his mouth falling open in a quiet moan.

Shane kisses the line of Brady’s jaw, his neck, because he knows that Brady loves it, but this time Brady says, “I have concerns.”

That’s a weird enough thing to say that Shane freezes completely and sits back. “Okay.”

Brady sits up, looking wrecked, from his disheveled curls down to his feet, one sock on, one sock off. He looks back at Shane, tugging his shirt back into place.

“What are you concerned about?” Shane asks.

“About the…” Brady looks around like he wants to make sure that nobody’s listening and then whispers, “The sex.”

“Oh, the _sex_.”

“Don’t make fun of me, this is so awkward.”

“Just tell me what the exact concern is, come on.”

“I told you, I don’t know anything… about… this. It’s been almost a month since we started dating and one of these days we’ll be back in Denver and we’ll… you know.”

“Do the sex?” Shane says and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I hate you.” Brady stares up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “I’m just worried that it’ll be, you know, really terrible. Because, like, you’ve slept with guys and I mean, I’ve had sex. I’ve had a lot of sex–”

“Dude, now you’re making me feel like shit.”

“What? You’ve had sex.”

“Yeah, but only with two people.”

“It doesn’t matter how many people it was with, what matters is that you know what you’re doing and I don’t. So all the sex I had isn’t gonna help me when there’s suddenly a second dick involved.”

“I know, but… Remember what I told you?”

“About hoping for the best?” Brady says. “Yeah, that wasn’t helpful.”

“It’s all I’ve been doing and it worked out fine.”

“Did it, though?” Brady asks.

“What are you saying, that my blowjobs are shit? They’re not. I’ll show you right now.”

Brady bites his lip and he’s thinking about it, he’s definitely thinking about it, and Shane loves the look on his face right now.

“Do you want me to?” Shane asks.

“Not here,” Brady says.

“But…” Shane scoots closer to him, leaning in to kiss that spot right below his ear. “Do you want me to… somewhere else?”

Brady’s breath hitches the tiniest bit. “When we’re back home,” he whispers.

Shane hums. “All Star Game’s coming up. We’ll have that entire weekend to ourselves.”

“And the entire bye week.”

“Wow, I’m gonna blow you so much,” Shane says and puts his arm around Brady. “Aren’t you really fucking lucky?”

Brady sighs at him.

“I’ll buy candles and I’ll put rose petals on the fl–”

“If you keep talking, I’m breaking up with you right now,” Brady says.

“Okay, but…” Shane gives his shoulder a squeeze. “If there’s anything I can do to make you feel less nervous about this, other than that telling you that I’m sure that it won’t be worse than the closet blowjob, which totally did its job, by the way… let me know, yeah?”

“Just promise me you won’t lie and tell me that it was great even if it wasn’t.”

“It’ll be great.”

“But if it isn’t–”

Shane takes his hand and he falls silent. He kisses his palm and then turns his hand over and kisses his knuckles. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll even write you a performance report if you want.”

“Wow,” Brady says, “that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Shane mumbles and shakes his head. “It’s a good thing you have me now.”

They meet Hannah at a restaurant of Hannah’s choosing – Shane told her she could pick, but she had to get them a table if it was some fancy-ass French place, even though he knows that Hannah isn’t really into fancy-ass French places.

It was actually Brady’s idea that he’d come for dinner. Shane was just going to introduce them after the game tomorrow, but since they’re flying right back to Denver afterwards, Brady suggested that they could just hang out the day before.

“Are you sure you want to do that to yourself?” Shane asked.

Brady laughed at him, like Shane was joking, except Shane really wasn’t joking. While Hannah is still the most normal person in his family, an evening with her might convince Brady that all of Shane’s relatives are absolutely insane and that he should run while he still can.

When they meet Hannah outside of a steakhouse – thank fuck, she just wants a thirty-dollar steak – the only thing she says to them, though, is, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Shane says, “look who I brought. It’s Brady.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Brady says and waves a little and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever done. Okay, not ever. But, like, in the past hour. 

Hannah only lets out this quick, high-pitched giggle.

“Uh, you wanna go inside?” Shane says.

Hannah nods. This is the least she’s ever talked in her life.

They’re led to a round table and Shane ends up between Hannah and Brady. They order and Hannah does go for one of the expensive steaks, which is fine because so does he. And Brady. And Brady’s so polite and immediately asks Hannah how she’s doing and how college is going for her, even though she’s clearly forgotten how to speak.

“Uh, good,” Hannah says.

“That’s great,” Brady replies, shooting a look at Shane that says something like, _Is she usually like this or does she hate me?_

Shane, who’s bravely holding himself back from cry-laughing all over this table, shakes his head just a little and gives him a smile that’s hopefully reassuring.

“Are you coming to the game tomorrow?” Brady asks.

“Yeah, I…” Hannah fiddles with her napkin. “Shane got tickets for me and a bunch of my friends.”

“Nice,” Brady says. “So do you guys usually support the Grizzlies?”

“Please, I’m from Minnesota, there’s only one team I actually like,” Hannah says. Ah. Yeah. There she is. “Not that I don’t love you guys or anything.”

“Yeah, she always loves me a lot when I give her jerseys, even though she’s not technically supporting the Hawks.”

“But you support your brother?”

“Yeah, only him. Nobody else. Maybe you.”

“You should support him,” Shane says and hands her the bag he’s been hiding under his jacket, “because he picked your present.”

“Wow, a plastic bag,” Hannah says, but quickly snatches it from him, peering into it, her eyes going wider and wider as she pulls out the sweatshirt with the castle and princesses on it. “You,” she points at Brady, “know what a girl wants. I’m impressed.”

“You’re welcome,” Shane says.

Hannah blows him a kiss.

“She is not nearly thankful enough for all the hockey tickets I get her,” Shane says.

Hannah kicks him under the table. “You know, my friends Niko and Sarah are saying you’re the ultimate ally for getting us tickets for the Grizzlies’ Pride Night. I told them that you don’t know that they’re lesbians but they’re still gonna make a sign that says _Lesbians love Shane Wilds_ or something.”

“Oh, it’s their Pride Night tomorrow?” Shane says, even though he knows that it’s Boston’s Pride Night tomorrow and had a whole-ass conversation about the importance of Pride Tape with Brady just yesterday.

Brady shoots him a look, because he obviously remembers, but Shane only picks up the special drinks menu and stares at the same drink for about thirty seconds, trying to get it together. He usually pretends that he’s not in the least interested in any sort of Pride celebration, just puts the tape on his stick and says something about being accepting and about supporting his teammates and that’s it. He’s not standing out that way. He has no feelings whatsoever about Pride Nights or all the people bringing rainbow-colored signs and wearing rainbow flags like capes. When he was a kid, they never saw any of that at games. He doesn’t think about all the kids out there who see that there’s this whole community now, that there’s people who are trying to carve out a space for them in hockey.

They’re not there yet, not even close, but who knows what the league will look like a few years down the line.

Hannah rolls her eyes at him. “If you don’t at least look Niko and Sarah’s way tomorrow–”

“I’ll wave at them,” Shane says.

“You should take a picture with them.”

“We’ll see, okay? Like, I know warmups are all fun and shit, but we’re still at work.”

“I know you’re very serious about your job,” Hannah says and takes a big gulp of her water. “Aren’t you guys supposed to have, like, an ambassador?”

“That’s Robbie,” Brady says.

“What does he do?”

Mostly, he lets Shane talk about gay shit without judging him, but it’s not like he’s telling Hannah about that. “He works with local charities and stuff like that.”

Hannah hums. “You know, there’s players who, like, leave the tape on their stick during the game.”

“I know,” Shane says.

“Why don’t you do that?”

Because Shane is pretending that he only cares the expected amount and no more than that.

“Do you think people would care about that sort of thing?” Brady asks.

“I mean, I know that Niko and Sarah care.”

“Maybe I’ll do it,” Brady says. He didn’t have to do that. Swoop in and save Shane’s ass. He’ll have to thank him later.

Hannah glances at Brady and smiles.

Brady smiles back at her and Hannah’s face turns bright red.

Shane flicks Brady’s thigh under the table. He’s not supposed to encourage her.

Brady shoots him a shit-eating grin and turns back to Hannah. “So, do you have a boyfriend or anything?”

“Uh, I… No. Not really. I mean… there’s, like… someone. But, you know… No.”

“There’s someone?” Shane asks. “A guy?”

“A person who showers and doesn’t smell like weed, Shane. A true rarity.”

“So he goes to college with you?”

“I fail to see how that’s any of your business,” Hannah says.

Brady laughs. At Shane. What an ass.

Their food comes and they’re all quiet for a moment as they dig into their steaks. Between bites, Brady turns to Hannah and says, “Where’d you two meet, then?”

“Oh, he… he was lost and I helped him and he sort of… bought me a coffee to say thanks and we started talking.” Hannah shrugs. “It’s not… It’s not a super serious thing.”

There’s a _yet_ hanging in the air.

“Is he coming to the game tomorrow?” Brady asks. “I’m sure Shane would love to meet him.”

Hannah’s eyes go wide, realizing that she’s been played. “No, I’m just bringing Niko and Sarah,” she says and stabs her steak, her eyes settling on Shane. “Mom says you haven’t called her in forever.”

Swift change in topic. She probably learned that from Shane. “I didn’t have time. I always reply to her texts, though.”

“Right. What do you say? _Yes_ , _no_ and _k_?”

That is, indeed, what he says. And _sorry I can’t_. Sorry, he can’t call. Sorry, he can’t get some lady he’s never met tickets for a game that his team isn’t even part of. Sorry, he already has plans for his bye-week. Sorry. He knows that it’s his niece’s birthday during that week. He knows she’d be happy to see him. Sorry, but he really can’t.

“There’s a lot of shit going on,” Shane says.

“I’m not saying you’re not busy or whatever, but, like… It’s not Mom’s fault that–”

“Why don’t we…” Shane glances at Brady. “Let’s talk about it some other time, okay?”

“Sorry, Brady, you didn’t come for our family drama,” Hannah says. “Shane’s just terrible at communicating, but so is literally everyone else in our family.”

Shane rolls his eyes. He’s not that terrible at communicating. He’s doing fine with Brady, because Brady actually communicates back and when he talks to his family it’s either all accusations or all pretending that everything’s just peachy. “Can we talk about something else?” Shane says.

“Sure,” Hannah says, “let’s talk about dessert.”

Shane gives Hannah some money to get an Uber back to her dorm, because she was complaining that she has no money and he just wants her to get home safe, and once the car’s out of sight, he and Brady head back to the team hotel.

“You okay?” Brady asks a few minutes into their very silent walk.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because…” Brady shrugs. “You knew about the Grizzlies’ Pride Night.”

“Yeah.”

“So why–”

“Because I don’t want her to… I don’t know. I just don’t wanna give anyone the wrong idea. That I…”

“Care?”

“That I care for a specific reason,” Shane says. “I mean, obviously I care. But only as much as I’m comfortable caring while I stay…” He looks over his shoulder. “While I stay very, very deep in the closet.”

“I get it, but I don’t think anyone would assume you’re gay just because you care about another team’s Pride Night.”

Shane sighs. “I know. I… I get super anxious. I don’t even know why. I mean, Robbie walks around with rainbows all over everything he owns, but everyone knows that it’s for his sister, so no one’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Brady says.

“For what? You literally saved my ass.”

“Because… it must have been hard. Making sure you always keep this huge part of yourself hidden. I never really had to.”

“And now you do.”

“It is what it is,” Brady says. “Imagine if we’d never met and I’d gone through life not even getting to know this part of me.”

Shane shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat. It’s fucking freezing. “Might have been easier.”

“I don’t know. Might have been a lot lonelier, too.”

Shane bumps his shoulder against Brady’s as they walk. Or… more like his upper arm, because Brady’s so much taller than him and Shane has never been as aware of that fact as he is now, because he always has to pull Brady down to kiss him.

“You wanna come up to my room for a bit when we’re back at the hotel?” Brady asks. “It’s not that late yet, we could hang out for a bit.”

“Yeah.”

“If you wanna talk about your mom…”

“I don’t.”

“No?”

Shane shrugs. “I wouldn’t know what to say. She’s been pushing me to forgive my dad for cheating on her, but… he’s my dad. I have a relationship with him, too. And, sure, her feelings matter because she’s his wife, at least for the time being, fuck knows if they’re getting divorced, and if she wants to forgive him, good for her, but that doesn’t mean that I have to, right?”

“No, you don’t have to,” Brady says.

“I just didn’t want to see him, so I invited Eddie on the dads’ trip, but I guess my parents both considered that some declaration of war. I mean, you’ve met Eddie, he was so excited that I invited him. I just wanted to do something nice for him.”

“And you didn’t want to see your dad.”

Shane sighs. “And I didn’t want to see my dad.” Eddie had the best time on the dads’ trip, though. He became fast friends with everyone and told every embarrassing story about Shane that he could remember. On national TV. It was great. For Eddie. Not for Shane.

“It’s okay to not want to see him, you know?”

“Yeah. I’m not trying to punish him or anything, I just honestly have nothing to say to him. And… I have been avoiding my mom, but mostly because I don’t know what to say to her either.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Yeah, make Chewie lie down on me like a blanket,” Shane says. “Or, even better, you could lie down on me like a blanket.”

“Okay,” Brady says, voice soft. “I think we can work that out.”

“Okay,” Shane echoes.

“In fact, I can be your blanket for the entire All Star Weekend.”

Shane sighs. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” Brady says and tugs him along.


	30. Chapter 30

When Orlie gets injured in their game against Boston and can’t go to the All Star Game, Shane gets a phone call he always desperately wanted to get but had given up on ever receiving. He’s a good hockey player. He’s a top-six forward. He’s not totally dispensable, but he’s not a superstar either. So he’s not the kind of guy who gets invited to the All Star Game, he doesn’t win awards, but he makes good money and he’s important enough to his team that they’d want to hold on to him.

But when a guy gets injured a few days before the All Star Game, there isn’t much they can do. Vacations are booked, plans are made, so they grab whoever is available, just to fill up the spot, to keep things running smoothly. They’re obviously trying to send someone from the same team, to keep things balanced.

Somehow, someone found out that Shane doesn’t have plans for the All Star Weekend. When people asked, he told them he might head to Aspen for a few days but that he wasn’t sure yet.

He’s at Brady’s house and he flits out of the kitchen to take the call, almost scared that someone’s going to tell him that he just got traded, even though they’re nowhere close to the deadline and it’s not a contract year for him either and there’s just nothing that would single him out as trade bait.

It’s not about a trade, though.

When he shuffles back into the kitchen, Chewie, previously banished to the living room, squeezes past him to investigate the current food situation.

“Everything okay?” Brady asks.

“I’m so sorry,” Shane says. “I’m, like, the worst boyfriend in the world, but they just called me about the All Star Game, because Orlie can’t go and they need a replacement and they asked if I wanted to go and I said yes and I didn’t even ask you, but we were gonna spend the weekend together and now I need to leave tomorrow and I didn’t even talk to you about it and that was probably really shitty of me, but I’ve always wanted to go to the All Star Game and now I can, they want me to go and I couldn’t say no.” He takes a deep breath. “Are you mad?”

Brady looks at him for a long moment. “No, I’m not mad.” He dumps his spoon in the pan and comes over to him to sweep him into a hug. “That’s great.”

“But we were gonna spend the whole weekend together.”

“We still have a few more days afterwards,” Brady says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh my God.” Shane squeezes Brady tightly. “This is so exciting. Everyone’s gonna be there and… Shit, I’m gonna be the worst player there.”

“No, you won’t be.”

“Uh, yeah, because I’m just a replacement and everyone else is actually an All Star.”

“You’re not the only replacement,” Brady says. “Pretty sure that the Scorpions are also sending someone else. And the Foxes. Just go and have a good time.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll go and have a good time.”

“Good.”

“And you won’t be mad?”

“No, I definitely won’t be mad,” Brady says. “But you should totally bring me a present.”

“I will, I’ll bring you the best present ever.”

Most of the players that are invited to the All Star Game have been there before. They’re captains and scoring leaders who consistently have great seasons. They know what they’re doing.

Shane gets there and is totally lost. Which is fine, because there’s so much staff telling everyone where to go and what to do, shuffling him from one event to the next, that he doesn’t even have time to be nervous. He still is, though. Doesn’t help that he’s the only Hawk there, so he has no one he can look to for cues.

“Shane Wilds.”

Shane turns around and finds himself face-to-face with no one other than Ravens captain Elliot Cowell. He’s wearing a tailored three-piece suit and glasses and Shane doesn’t even have to look at any of the other guys, he already knows that Elliot is the hottest person here.

He should say hello to Elliot. They’ve met before, they sort of know each other, but Shane doesn’t remember any words.

“Brady told me you were coming,” Elliot goes on. “It’s your first time here, right?”

“Right,” Shane says. He remembered one word. Wonderful. “Hey, good to see you.” More words. Excellent.

“Let’s hang out later,” Elliot says before he is whisked away.

So is Shane. He barely has time to talk to anyone, because there’s fans and there’s reporters and everyone wants to talk to him and when he falls into bed at the end of the day he’s so exhausted that he could go straight to sleep, but he gets out of his suit and puts on the shirt he stole from Brady, a Hard Rock Café shirt from New York. Brady told him that he bought it when he went to New York on a roadie during his rookie year, which was when Shane insisted on giving it back to him, because it’s clearly special to Brady, but he told him to just take it.

Shane brushes his teeth, like an adult, then he plugs in his phone, gets into bed and calls Brady.

“Hey, didn’t–” The picture freezes, then goes blurry, the sound cutting out. “–call me tonight.” Then there’s Brady, already in bed, even though Shane’s on the East Coast, in Raleigh, where the Comets are hosting the game and he’s a few hours ahead. Not exactly bedtime in Denver.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear any of that,” Shane says.

“Aw. Okay.” Brady smiles at him. “Hey. Penny also says hey.” He tilts the camera so Shane can see Penny, who’s snoozing right next to him.

“Where’s Chewie?”

“Oh, he’s here, too.” Brady flips the camera to show him Chewie, curled up at the end of the bed. “Gang’s all here. Except for you.”

Shane makes a face. “I’m sorry.”

“No, hey, I didn’t wanna make you feel guilty or anything. Are you having a good time? Elliot said he saw you.”

“Did he send you the selfie?”

“He sure did,” Brady says. “Did you have a chance to talk to him?”

“I mean, we talked a little, but it wasn’t like… a deep conversation. We didn’t talk about you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You didn’t? That’s disappointing.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” Shane says.

“Did they tell you what you’re gonna be doing?”

“Just… a fuckton of interviews and… You know, I was talking to the Central’s captain earlier… Damian… you know Damian, he was… Was he the Wolves’ captain already when you were in Chicago?”

“No, not yet, the season I was on the NHL team was his rookie year.” Brady pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I’m so old.”

“If you’re old, I’m old,” Shane says.

“I’m still a year older than you. Time to retire.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re doing great. You’re one goal away from tying your career high, you know?”

“I do know that, thanks,” Brady says.

“It’s only the end of January, you might even… score another two goals. Or three. Or f–”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“It’s what you deserve, though,” Shane says.

Brady laughs. “If you say so.” He’s gone a second later and all Shane sees is a black screen, but he can hear Brady say, “Penny, what the fuck?”

“What is she doing?”

“I don’t know, she just wants attention.” The picture goes shaky and then there’s Penny, sniffing at Brady’s phone. “I’m trying to have a conversation here, you know?”

Shane laughs and pulls the sheets up to his chin.

“You look cozy.”

“I am. I didn’t think this was gonna be so exhausting, but, like…” Shane yawns. “Now I get why some of the older guys don’t like coming here. See, I’m the old man here.”

“You should sleep.”

Shane closes his eyes. “No.”

“We’ll talk at some point tomorrow. I’ll probably be home all day anyway, I’ll take the dogs out for a bit, but other than that it’ll just be pizza and movies for me.”

“Wow, you have no idea how jealous I am right now.”

“You could be here with me, but you wanted to go to the All Star Game instead. You did this to yourself.”

“Ugh. To think I could be making out with you right now.”

Brady cackles. “I’ll pick you up at the airport when you come back, okay?”

“Okay,” Shane says. He shouldn’t have closed his eyes. He was gonna talk to Brady way longer and tell him about his day and about all the guys he met, but that’s not happening.

“I’m gonna hang up now, so you can sleep.”

“Hm.”

“I miss you. Bye.”

Shane’s pretty sure that he says bye, but it probably comes out sounding like, “Blubuh.”

Shane keeps seeing Elliot around the next day, but mostly in passing, so there’s never a good time to go over there and tell him Brady said hi. They have the skills competition in the evening and they enter Shane for fastest skater. He comes in fourth, which is pretty good. He wasn’t expecting to win it anyway and he’s proud of himself for not being last.

Elliot grins at him afterwards, but he’s over with his buds from the Metro and Shane’s not getting in the middle of that. Elliot aces the target competition and wins, because of course he does. Third year in a row. He’s absolutely unreal.

Shane runs into him the next morning when he has some time to himself and heads out to grab a present for Brady, which is where he runs into Elliot, who’s standing in front of a stack of Josh Roy shirts.

“You a Cards fan?” Shane asks.

Elliot looks up, eyes crinkling when he smiles. “Uh, not really, but I know someone who is.”

Shane nods. “Brady told me to say hi to you.”

“We miss him a lot in New York,” Elliot says. “We loved having him on the team.” Which is something everyone says about their former teammates, it’s the same old bullshit they tell the media, no matter how much they hated the guy, no matter how useless he was, but when Elliot says it, it sounds like he actually means it. Like they do miss him. Like they really did love having him on the team.

“Yeah, he is… pretty great,” Shane says.

Elliot looks around, at the stack of Josh Roy shirts, and back at Shane. “You wanna go grab a coffee or something?”

“Uh, sure,” Shane says. “I actually need to grab a gift real quick, though.”

“Me, too. I’ll see you outside.”

Shane gets a fridge magnet for Brady, because he has a bunch on his fridge, so he probably doesn’t hate fridge magnets. He meets Elliot outside and they head down the street, grab a coffee and keep walking, because there’s fans everywhere and Shane is pretty sure that they’re not gonna talk about stuff that they’d want anyone to overhear.

They got stopped twice before they’d even make it to Starbucks, one person who wanted a picture with Elliot, another one who recognized Shane and only noticed that Elliot was with him after she’d already talked to Shane for a minute and asked him to sign her All Star Game jersey. They took a picture with her too, then another one with her friend.

“Oh my God, Elliot Cowell?” someone says when they walk out of Starbucks with their coffees.

It happens three more times.

“You’re, uh… popular,” Shane says.

“So are you,” Elliot says. “Everyone was really excited when they announced that you were coming.”

“Eh, I mean… _I_ was excited for sure.”

“You had nothing planned?”

“Nah, I was just gonna…” Shane shrugs. “Well, I was gonna hang out with Brady, mostly.”

Elliot laughs. “Yeah, I bet he would have liked that. You know, my partner… every year he’s like, ‘I wish they’d just not invite you this one time,’ but they always do.”

Shane doesn’t know what to say in reply, because Elliot has a partner and that partner is a _he_ and Elliot’s just telling Shane about it like it’s no big deal, so all he can do is gape.

“Brady said he told you that I’m…” Elliot clears his throat, glances over his shoulder and lowers his voice, “I’m engaged to a guy.”

“He did not say you were engaged.”

Although Brady did say that Elliot was practically married. Maybe that’s what he meant.

Elliot laughs and pulls at the silver chain he has around his neck. There’s a ring on it, plain silver, with something engraved on the inside that Shane can’t see properly. “It’s not really… I mean, we’re not gonna get married. Not any time soon anyway. But…” Elliot shrugs. “He doesn’t like saying things with words, so it’s… a ring.”

“That’s nice,” Shane says.

Shit, if Elliot Cowell can be out there, being the captain of his team and breaking franchise records and being altogether the most amazing person in the league – even though many people would argue with him on that, but whatever – and getting engaged to a man, so can Shane.

Elliot tucks the ring back under his shirt.

“Have you…” Shane trails off and takes a sip of his coffee. They barely know each other, he can’t just ask personal questions like they’ve been friends for ten years.

“What?”

Whatever, Shane’s never going to get another chance like this. “It works? You and your… partner. Like, it works for you?”

“It works because we make it work,” Elliot says. “It’s hard, we don’t see each other that much during the season, but we talk pretty much every day, even if it’s just for two minutes.”

“I didn’t know anyone else… Not before Brady. And, like, Brady’s only just figuring things out.”

“No shit, he was figuring things out all over my living room. He was walking around so much that I was worried that he’d wear a hole in the floor.”

Shane shakes his head. “I didn’t even know anything about that. Glad he had you, though.”

“Yeah. Sucks when you have no one to talk to. Telling people is always a risk, but when you think about it… Statistically, it’s not just us. I guess a lot of gay players used to quit before they even made it to the league, but–”

“You know others?”

“Nobody I could tell you about.”

Shane hums.

“Hey…” Elliot pats his back. “We don’t know each other that well, but if you ever need someone to talk to… you know where to find me.”

“Thanks. Really.”

Elliot smiles at him.

“I’m so glad you’re not single, otherwise I’d constantly be scared that you might steal my boyfriend.”

“I’d never,” Elliot says.

It’s true. Elliot Cowell is way too nice to steal somebody’s boyfriend.


	31. Chapter 31

“Do you wanna go home?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to drop you off at your place?” Brady asks. 

Shane rubs his eyes. Brady just picked him up at the airport and Shane wants to do so many things – eat, like, three burgers, sleep for five hours, and kiss Brady all day – but he definitely doesn’t want to go home. 

“I mean…” Shane shrugs. “I sort of need to take a shower and get something to eat, but…”

“I can stop at the Grill.”

“I love you,” Shane says.

Shane just said _I love you_ without even thinking about it and Brady heard it and Shane has to go die now. Maybe he can just jump out of the car. 

“Guess that’s a yes to the Grill,” Brady muses. 

Thank fuck, he probably thought it was a, _Yes, I love that idea and that you suggested it_ , and not Shane word-vomiting his feelings all over the place like an absolute buffoon. It’s the sleep-deprivation. “Yeah, that’s definitely a yes to the Grill. I love the Grill. And that we’re going.” Shane clears his throat. “If I eat garlic fries, you also have to eat garlic fries.”

“Would you believe me if I said that I’d still kiss you if you ate garlic fries and I didn’t?”

“I’m not gonna risk it.”

“Risk what?”

“That you’ll be so disgusted by me that you’ll never want to kiss me again.”

“It can’t be more disgusting than you after a game with all your gear on.”

Shane laughs. “Okay.”

“You kinda look hot with sweaty hair, though.”

“Oh, do I?” Shane asks and sits up.

Brady makes a non-committal noise and takes the exit closest to the Grill. He glances over at Shane, who can’t stop grinning at him. “What?”

“You think I’m hot?”

“I’m dating you, of course I think you’re hot.”

“That’s not a given,” Shane says.

“What, you don’t think I’m hot?”

Shane huffs. “Of course I think you’re hot.”

“So why is it not a given?” Brady asks.

“Because… someone might think their significant other is… cute… or handsome. Or just generally good-looking.”

“But why would you date someone you don’t think is hot? Like, a person can be all of those things at the same time.”

“I don’t know,” Shane says.

“Seriously, where is this coming from?”

“Nowhere, I just…” Shane shrugs. He should have never started this conversation, because they’re wading into embarrassing territories. 

“You just _what_?”

Shane sighs. “No one’s ever said that to me.”

“That you’re hot?”

“Yeah.”

“For real?” Brady hits the brakes with a little too much force at the next stop sign. “Have you ever looked yourself up on Twitter?”

“I’ve stopped doing that, because recently people have been saying that I’m useless and should be traded.”

“Because you haven’t scored in three games? That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not having a good season.”

“Your season is fine,” Brady says. “Don’t listen to any of that. There’s always people who want you to get traded, but they don’t matter, they don’t decide who gets to stay and who has to go. Seriously, trade rumors will fuck you up if you pay too much attention to them.” He pulls into the Grill’s parking lot. “Anyway, what I was trying to say is… people do think you’re hot.”

“I know, but I’ve never… No one I’ve dated has said that.”

“Well, I just did.”

“And I appreciate it,” Shane says and quickly gets out of the car before Brady can say anything else. Because Brady was giving him some kinda look and there was definitely something else coming. 

They end up in a booth in the back and they get garlic fries and Brady gets the spicy wings and Shane ends up ordering the Grill’s special burger because he’s starving. Brady grabs the check before Shane even has a chance to reach out because he’s eating the rest of the garlic fries. 

“I can give you half.”

“Can’t I just take you out for…” Brady shrugs, because this was neither lunch nor dinner. “For a nice afternoon meal?”

“Oh, was this like…” Shane leans across the table and whispers, “a date?”

“Yeah,” Brady whispers back, “I think so.”

“I could get used to his,” Shane says.

Brady grins at him and they head back outside, snow drifting down on them as they walk to the car. “We’re supposed to get a ton of snow.”

“Ew,” Shane says. He grew up in Minnesota and has relatives in Manitoba, which aren’t exactly light on snow during the winter, so he’s used to it. And he wouldn’t be happy living in Florida or California either, because then he’d probably miss freezing his balls off and spending cozy days inside while it’s snowing. There’s nothing cozy about constant sunshine. “If we’re getting stuck somewhere for the day, can we make sure that we’re stuck in the same place?”

“Oh, for sure. Do you mind getting stuck at my place with the dogs?”

“I’d love to get stuck at your place. With the dogs.”

Brady grins. “All right. You wanna grab some stuff at yours on the way?”

“Yeah, I should probably… Yeah. Or you can drop me off and I’ll take a quick shower and… you know. Or I can shower at yours. If that’s… I mean…”

“Yeah, you can shower at mine,” Brady says. “Just make sure you lock the door, Chewie knows how to open it and he likes to break in.”

“I support him and his criminal behavior.”

“Of course you do.”

When Shane gets out of the shower, little droplets of water falling on the shirt he grabbed at home together with a bunch of others and a few pairs of sweatpants and jeans and whatever he might need in case they get snowed in. Like underwear and–

“I didn’t bring socks,” Shane says as he walks out of the bathroom and into Brady’s bedroom. Chewie is sitting right in front of the door. “Oh, hey.”

“I told him not to break in, but he was definitely thinking about it,” Brady says. He points at his closet. “There’s socks in there.”

“Eh, I don’t need any right now,” Shane says and gets into bed with Brady, who puts a bookmark into the book he was reading and puts it down. It’s a fucking brick of a book. _A Little Life_. Shane’s never heard of it, but he’s not a book person to begin with. 

“Hey,” Brady says. He sits up, cross-legged, and smiles at Shane. “You’re back.”

Shane lies back, looking up at him. “I am. Did you miss me?”

“Maybe,” Brady says. He leans forward to kiss Shane’s forehead. “So… I checked the forecast and it’s probably not the best idea to go anywhere tomorrow. I’ve got enough food, though, so…”

“I don’t mind staying in,” Shane says. 

“Me neither.”

“Good.” Shane closes his eyes, because a nap is probably next on his list. He’s pretty lopsided on Brady’s bed and should move, but now Brady’s touching him, fingers slowly running up and down his arm and Shane’s basically half-asleep already.

“Do you want a blanket?”

“Nah… just…” Shane reaches out for Brady, catching him by the wrist. 

“Oh, you want a human space heater, I get it. Here…” Brady tugs at him until his head is on a pillow, his hair still damp, so it’ll dry weird while he’s sleeping, but he doesn’t give a crap right now. Brady fits himself against him, nudging Shane until he’s the little spoon and Brady mumbles something, but Shane doesn’t hear it, he’s already out. 

He wakes up to somebody’s phone ringing, but he’s pretty sure that it’s not his.

Brady softly says, “Shit,” and then he’s gone, grabbing his phone and shuffling out of the room.

Shane sighs and rolls into the spot Brady was just in, but quickly gets cold without Brady plastered against his back. He sits up and rubs his eyes, checks his own phone – nothing he needs to reply to immediately – and gets out of bed. Looks like Chewie followed Brady downstairs. They must have slept right through the dogs’ dinner time.

When Shane walks into the kitchen, Chewie and Penny are both gobbling down food and Brady has his head in the fridge, still on the phone, but he says, “Sorry, Mom, I gotta go, but I’ll call you again sometime this week, okay? Tell Dani I said hi.” He turns to Shane once he’s hung up. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine,” Shane says. 

Brady reaches for him and Shane goes easily. It’s only been about a month since they first kissed, but it feels much longer and at the same time not long enough.

“How’s your mom?” Shane mumbles.

“Good, she’s good, I… uh…”

“Hm?”

“I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“I… So, I know that you’re not really on the best terms with your parents, but I was thinking about, you know, us…”

“And?”

“And I was wondering if they know?”

Shane pulls away. “If they know… what?”

“That you’re gay.”

Shane laughs. “Fuck, no.”

“Oh,” Brady says. 

“Does it matter if they know?” Shane asks. He doesn’t want Brady to think that it’s about him, that Shane’s embarrassed, or that he’s ashamed of him. It’s just that he knows that a conversation like that wouldn’t go over well. 

“No, no, that’s not why I’m asking. I…” Brady nods at his phone. “I tell my mom things. About my life. Usually. And I know we said we wouldn’t tell anyone, but…”

“You want to tell your mom?” Shane says. “That you have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah?”

“She’d be okay with that?” Shane asks and doesn’t like how incredulous it comes out. “I mean, not that your mom’s not super nice or anything, but…”

“My mom’s a black woman who married a white guy, she knows a thing or two about what it’s like when society isn’t accepting. Or your own family, for that matter.”

“Oh,” Shane says.

“Plus, she goes to Calgary Pride every year.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’ll just be like, ‘Hey, I have a boyfriend now,’ and it’ll be all good?”

“I guess,” Brady says. “My family isn’t… I mean, Jeff already knows that I’m bi and Zach is literally his team’s You Can Play ambassador, it’s not gonna be a huge thing.”

Shane nods.

“What?” Brady asks.

“Nothing.” Shane leans in to give him a quick kiss. “You wanna–”

“Shane,” Brady says, “why were you making that face?”

“I don’t know, my face just does things,” Shane says. 

Brady leans back against the counter, eyebrows raised.

“Well… when you tell your mom… will you tell her who your boyfriend is?”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Okay,” Shane says.

“Unless you don’t mind if I do?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind. Really,” Shane says. He definitely won’t tell his own parents, but he likes the idea of having someone in their corner. Most of all, he wants Brady to have that kind of support, because there’s too many people out there who don’t. Doesn’t matter if Shane’s part of the equation. “But if you don’t want to tell her, it’s fine. We’ve only been together for a month, so maybe you don’t want to. I don’t care.”

“You don’t care if I tell my mom about you, you’ll just make a bunch of really expressive faces about it?”

Shane makes a grumbly noise, because it honestly doesn’t really matter and Brady can do whatever he wants and Shane definitely won’t get involved in this. But then he could go to Brady’s in the summer. And be his boyfriend. Officially. There’s not too many places in this world where they they don’t have to hide.

“I thought you might not want her to know,” Brady says.

“I don’t want random people to know, but she’s your mom, she wouldn’t go and tell people or anything.”

“True,” Brady says. “She’ll want to, like…” He laughs. “You know what my parents are like with my friends, you were there last summer and they loved you and they’re even worse with our partners, so my mom’s gonna, like, ask for your number and she’ll add you to the family group chat and she’ll text you and send you care packages and she’ll be _really_ interested in what’s going on in your life. Just wanna make sure that you’re prepared for that.”

“I think I can live with that,” Shane says. 

“Good. She can be a lot. Like, I love my mom, but sometimes she’s a little too involved.” Brady smiles a little and shrugs. “Anyway… so I’ll tell her? About you?”

Shane nods.

“I’m not gonna call her right now, so if you change your mind, just tell me,” Brady says. His eyes dart to something above Shane’s head, his smile growing wider. 

Shane’s hair. 

He tugs his fingers through it. “How bad is it?”

“It’s a look,” Brady says. “Very, uh…”

“Ugh…” 

“It’s fine.” Brady reaches up and pulls at a few strands, smoothing them down. “There. Are you growing it out?”

“No, I just really need a haircut. I was thinking I might take care of it this week. Not tomorrow, but…”

“Hm,” Brady says.

“What?”

“I like it like this,” Brady says, “but if you like it better when it’s shorter… It’s up to you.”

“Seriously, you like it better like this?”

“I didn’t say I like it better, it just suits you.”

Shane’s had the same haircut for, like, five years and the only reason it’s longer now is because he was too lazy to have his hair cut. He wears a helmet most of the time anyway and he’s pretty sure that nobody would ever pick his hair as his most attractive quality, no matter what haircut he had. He knows what his thighs look like, there’s no way anyone cares about his hair.

“Don’t…” Brady tilts his head. “Do whatever you wanna do, it doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It kinda does. What if you hate looking at me?”

“I’d never hate looking at you.”

Shane runs his fingers through his hair again. “What if I was bald? I’m totally gonna go bald at some point.”

“Yeah, when you’re, like, seventy.”

“Maybe earlier,” Shane says. His dad still has hair, but it’s all gray and it’s definitely starting to thin. When he finds his first gray hair, he’ll probably die instantly so he never has to find the second one. 

Brady tugs at Shane’s shirt. “You’re always gonna be hot. Even when you’re ninety and have no teeth and complain about the kids these days.”

Shane laughs. “And when I’m bald.”

“Yeah. And when you’re bald.” Brady tugs him closer and kisses his cheek. “Hey, do you want dinner? I can throw something together if you want.”

“Is it a dick move to order food in this weather?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, I just wanna…” Shane kisses him. “You’re…” Steps closer, kisses him again. “Actually…” He pushes his thigh between Brady’s legs and gets a soft gasp in return. Brady’s fingers are in his hair and Shane stills with his lips against the line of Brady’s jaw. “I kinda wanna put my mouth on your dick and hope for the best, you know?”

“Oh,” Brady says, fingers tightening in Shane’s hair. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Yeah?”

Brady is already pushing him out of the kitchen. “Yeah.”


	32. Chapter 32

When Shane wakes up, it’s fucking freezing. 

He doesn’t know why his arms aren’t under the covers, but he assumes that his slow transformation into an icicle is what woke him up. It’s starting to get light out, but Shane sure as fuck isn’t getting up yet. He sticks his arms back under the duvet and wiggles closer to Brady. 

He should have probably put on a shirt last night, but he was too lazy. Brady’s back in his pajama pants and a shirt, because he took the dogs out right before they fell asleep and slipped back into bed, the tip of his nose freezing, smelling like cold night air. 

Brady makes a grunting noise when Shane bumps into him. He wants to go back to sleep. Seriously, there’s no reason for him to be awake. It’s their bye week. They’re supposed to be relaxing and sleeping, they’re supposed to be as lazy as possible. It was probably snowing all night and there’s no reason to go anywhere today. He can stay in this bed for twenty-four hours and nothing bad will happen. Maybe he’ll have to take a shower at some point. He probably has to get out of bed for that. Maybe for food as well. 

He can’t go back to sleep, though. 

He’s not really awake either and definitely not in the mood to do something insane like get up and shower. Dozing next to Brady is nice. He can feel the rise and fall of Brady’s chest under his fingertips and he’s snoring quietly. That’s not what’s keeping Shane awake either. He eventually turns over and grabs his phone to check his messages.

Michael and his mom sent a selfie from outside of _Book of Mormon_ last night, Robbie sent a picture of himself holding two cocktails that was probably taken by his girlfriend, a bunch of texts from Hannah – _lubu u_ , followed by _lob yo_ , and finally, _lov you_ – and a missed called from his mom, yesterday evening at eight. She left a message. 

Shane should probably listen to that.

But Brady’s still sleeping.

With a sigh, Shane gets out of bed, pulls on a shirt that’s definitely not his and snatches his sweatpants off the floor. He takes a quick detour to the bathroom and goes downstairs. First he lets Chewie and Penny out of the room they sleep in, feeds them and lets them outside into the snow-covered backyard. There’s so much snow. At least he doesn’t have to dig up his car today. His car’s not even here. Penny flits back inside quickly, but Chewie munches on some snow, padding back over to Shane slowly when he calls his name. 

“Good doggos,” Shane says as he grabs the towel that Brady keeps by the door and wipes off their wet paws. 

He gets the coffee going next, because Brady will wake up eventually and he’ll want coffee. Shane will wait with the rest of breakfast, though, and grabs a banana in the meantime. Then he sits down at the breakfast bar and puts his phone down on the counter. 

Penny and Chewie are both sitting at his feet. They probably want the banana, not his company. 

“This is not gonna be fun,” Shane says to them and then plays the voicemail.

“Shane, honey,” his mom says, “I know you get busy during the season, but I didn’t raise you to behave like this. Ignoring your mother when she calls you? Texting back hours later? Cutting your father out of your life completely? It’s petty and uncalled for. You’ll have to see us during the summer and then what? Do you expect us to pretend that you haven’t been acting like a child?”

Shane sighs.

The voicemail still goes on. “We paid for your hockey gear, we drove you to practices, and we did it because we love you, but right now you’re acting like you don’t even know us. It’s ungrateful, Shane. You support your family even during tough times. I know you took the time to see Hannah last week, how about you make some time to call your mother who dedicated years of her life to making sure you have everything you need and can live your dream? I love you, honey. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah,” Shane says as he locks his phone and glances down at Chewie, who still hasn’t given up on getting a piece of banana, “that wasn’t fun.” He tugs his fingers through his hair and pours himself a cup of coffee. 

Chewie follows him across the kitchen. 

“Bud,” Shane says to him. “I have nothing for you.”

Chewie sits down, tail wiping the tiles. 

“Wow, aren’t you the cutest?” Shane kneels down next to him, his coffee forgotten on the counter, and Chewie paws at his knee. “You’re so good. Are you actually gonna give me your paw. Wow, you do that, huh? Lie down, bud. Good boy. Now sit.” He holds out his hand. “Now give me your paw again. And the other paw. Are you just gonna do whatever I say? I’m not even your dad.”

Chewie’s tail is still wagging, like he’s having the best time. 

“Ah,” Shane says. He opens the drawer with the treats and now Penny has caught on, too. “Of course, you let Chewie do all the hard work and now you’re coming over for treats. Smart girl.”

He gives them one each and they look incredibly tragic when he puts away the bag. 

“How many did you give them?”

Shane spins around and slams the drawer shut. “Only one,” he says.

Brady, leaning in the doorway, sighs. “If my dogs get fat because you’re too nice to them…”

“I didn’t even give them more breakfast than usual,” Shane says. 

Brady grins. “You already fed them?”

“Yeah, they would have probably eaten me if I hadn’t.”

“For how long have you been up?” Brady asks and shuffles over to him to give him a quick kiss. 

“Not that long,” Shane mumbles. He holds up his phone. “My mom called last night and left a message.”

“Oh.” Brady leans closer. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I mean… she’s mad at me. She said I’m acting like a child and that I’m ungrateful and when I come home in the summer…” Shane lets out a breath. “I don’t even wanna go home in the summer. It was so weird, it was all… call me, _or else_ … Like, what am I supposed to do? Call her back and be like, ‘Thanks for calling me ungrateful, Mom. How are you today, then?’ That’s such a fucked-up thing to say to someone. I’m not ungrateful, I’m just… I don’t even know.”

Brady wraps his arms around him. 

“I don’t wanna call her back,” Shane says. “But, like… if I don’t, am I gonna ruin my relationship with my mom?”

Brady doesn’t reply, his fingers slowly tracing the line of Shane’s spine.

“Brady?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you… Do you think she’ll hate me forever if I don’t call her back?”

“She’s your mom, she won’t hate you forever. She shouldn’t… I want you to have a good relationship with your parents, because, you know, my parents are great and I want you to have that, too, but it looks like your mom is trying to guilt-trip you into talking to her when you’re definitely not ready for that and… I don’t like it.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t call her back?”

“I’m saying you should do what feels right to you,” Brady says. “You can send her a text and tell her you’ll call when you’re ready to talk or you can call her, but I can tell that you’re angry, so I’m not sure if that would fix anything.”

“I kinda want to… I don’t know, write her a check because she was going on about how much money they spent on my gear. If it matters so much to her, I can just…” Shane squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s a shitty thing to say. I’m sorry, I’m such a shitty person right now.”

Brady kisses the top of his head. 

“I’ll stop. Because we’re snowed in and we can have a snuggly day and that’s not gonna work if I’m being shitty.” Shane puts down his phone. “Okay. What do you wanna do?”

“You should go back to bed,” Brady says.

“Me? Just me?”

“Just you.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll make breakfast,” Brady says and starts walking Shane towards the door.

“I can help with breakfast.”

“But I was gonna make you breakfast,” Brady says and kisses Shane’s temple. “So go back to bed.”

“Oh, like… breakfast in bed?” Shane asks. 

Brady rolls his eyes at him, like it was obvious. 

“That’s very romantic of you,” Shane says and starts walking backwards to the stairs. “Can I bring the dogs to keep me company?”

“No dogs in my bed.”

“I know you’ve had the dogs in your bed before.”

Brady sighs. “Fine, but they have to leave when I bring the food.”

“Come one, Chewie, Penny,” Shane says and sprints up the stairs, the dogs on his heels.

He snuggles back into bed, a dog on his left and a dog on his right and dozes off again, a vague argument with his mom playing out in his head. It’s more memory than dream, from a Christmas several years ago, during Shane’s freshman year at college. About five minutes after she’d picked him up at the airport, his mom was already admonishing him for hardly ever calling, which is probably where all the complaining about how much he was supposed to call his parents started. 

Or just his mom. His dad never had any expectations concerning phone calls. 

Even back then, Shane was mostly texting, because it was easier to say hi real quick between practice and a class. Phone calls actually required about half an hour of free time. More like an hour when his mom really got going, because she wanted to know everything. About his classes and his friends and his love life and what he had for breakfast and if he was getting enough sleep and what his team was like. The more his mom wanted to know, the less he wanted to call, because talking to her always left him exhausted. He wonders if she’s like that with Hannah or if she’s calmed down a little. 

“Hey, did you go back to sleep?”

“Hm?” Shane says and stretches.

There’s a soft thump, then Brady orders Chewie and Penny out of the room. Shane squints at them as their fluffy tails disappear into the hallway. 

“Here you go,” Brady says and sets down a tray with food piled high – eggs, bacon, toast and jam, hash browns, two cups of coffee and two glasses of orange juice. “Sorry, that took a while.”

“Thank you,” Shane says and kisses him, and kisses him a little more, and he leans back against the headboard, Brady following with a a pleased hum. He tastes like bacon. “You already ate some bacon, didn’t you?”

“Just a little piece to make sure it’s good,” Brady says. 

“Hmm, very good.” Shane kisses the corner of Brady’s mouth, his hand wandering down his back to his ass.

“I did make breakfast, you know?”

“Right, you did, sorry…” Shane puts his hand on the small of Brady’s back. “Let’s eat breakfast.”

“Yeah…” Brady kisses him. “Let’s…”

Shane’s breath hitches when Brady’s fingers slip under his shirt. 

Glasses clink together and Brady looks up, over his shoulder. Their breakfast is fine, they just spilled a bit of orange juice.

“Okay,” Shane says. “Food. Before we get it all over the bed.”

Brady laughs and grabs one of the coffee mugs.

“You know,” Shane says as he snatches a piece of bacon off one of the plates, “maybe I won’t get my hair cut.”

Brady smirks at him over the rim of his mug. “Because you’re too lazy to go out and do it?”

“Why can’t we just pretend that I’m doing it for you?” Shane asks. 

“Because we both know that it’s just a convenient excuse.”

“Ugh,” Shane says and grabs a fork to dig into the eggs.

Their bye week goes by in the blink of an eye and a few days later Shane’s heading to the rink with Michael for morning skate. They have a game that night, then they’re flying to Seattle right after. 

Shane doesn’t know what the fuck is going on with their schedule, but they’re in town for the Sailors’ Pride Night and they’ll also be playing against Calgary during their Pride Night two days later. Brady’s excited about it; he’s had a tiny bit of rainbow tape on one of his sticks ever since the game in Boston, and he doesn’t do media a lot, but they crowd around him in Seattle, because he’ll be playing against his brother and that’s always a story they jump on.

“What’s it like playing against your brother?”

“It’s always fun, obviously,” Brady says, “I’ll see Zach for dinner tonight and I guess I’ll ask him to go easy on me.”

“Were you competitive when you were younger?” another reporters asks. 

“Oh, for sure, even before all of us were playing hockey, but… mostly, we’re just happy when, uh… when things are going well for the others.”

“Who do think your parents will be rooting for tonight?”

“Probably Jeff’s team.”

That earns him a round of chuckles. 

“Since you’re here for Seattle’s Hockey is for Everyone night… You’ve been using Pride Tape on your stick ever since your game in Boston. What contributed to that decision?”

“Well, it’s mostly just… I saw that it meant a lot to so many people, so I figured I’d keep it on there, because… there’s still a lot of people out there who need to see this kind of support. It’s not a big deal to me personally, but it clearly is to other people and if I can show them that they’re welcome here this way, then I’ll obviously do it.”

Brady’s messages on Instagram have been flooded with people thanking him for leaving the rainbow tape on his stick. Brady showed him some of them. Shane didn’t cry about it, but he definitely got close a couple of times.

“Man, I feel like Spicy’s doing a better job as an ambassador than me,” Robbie says to Shane. “I never thought of leaving the tape on my stick. Why did I never think of that, seriously? My sister sent me a text about it the other day.”

“You’re doing other stuff,” Shane says. He knows that Robbie donates a ton of money to the Trevor Project and donates tickets to local charities in Denver. And, on a personal level, he’s been a really good friend to Shane. He doesn’t know what being on this team would have been like without Robbie. He doesn’t even want to think about it. 

Robbie smiles at him and punches Shane in the arm. It’s how he shows affection. 

They all head back to the bus after practice and he hears Gunner grumbling to one of his lineys. “I don’t get it, nobody ever told gays that they weren’t welcome at games, so why do they need an extra night for it?”

Shane takes a deep breath. Can’t deck a teammate in the face. Can’t. Will get in trouble. With a lot of people. Will also result in getting asked a lot of questions. Not worth it. He takes another deep breath when he he has to hear the words _Straight Pride_ with his own two ears. 

“Dude, just go with it, it’s just another theme night,” Brady says.

“Ohh, Spicy, I know you love the gays, I bet–”

Shane still can’t deck Gunner in the face. It’s really too bad. Knowing that Brady has, once upon a time, broken Gunner’s nose has to be enough for him right now. 

“Okay, knock it off, enough,” Robbie says.

Gunner side-eyes Robbie, but doesn’t say anything else. Good for him, because Robbie _might_ deck him in the face. 

Gunner gets scratched for the game in Seattle. 

That’s what they call poetic justice.

Brady gets more and more excited the closer they get to Calgary. He doesn’t sleep on the flight, so they watch a movie together, Michael across the aisle, handing them cookies, because he’s a terrible influence. 

When they touch down, Brady’s smile is so big that it must hurt his face.

Shane laughs. “Aw, are you happy to be home?”

“Always,” Brady says. 

He takes off to hang out with his mom and tells Shane a thousand times that it’s fine if he comes, but Shane knows that Brady and his mom are close and he doesn’t want to barge in on their quality time and make them feel like they have to entertain him or anything. 

He hangs out with Michael and they get dinner together at a restaurant that Brady recommended and once they’re back at the hotel, Shane knocks on Brady’s door, Michael making quiet kissy noises at him as he wanders off to his own room. 

Brady opens the door for him a second later and pulls him into the room, gives him a gentle kiss and says, “How was your day?”

“Cold,” Shane says. “How’s your mom?”

“Good, she asked why you didn’t want to come,” Brady says. “I told her you had a date with Michael.”

Shane laughs. “He paid for my dinner, you know?”

“Oh, shit, I haven’t paid for your dinner in, like, five whole days, you should dump me immediately,” Brady says.

“No, I’d never…” Shane tackle-hugs him onto the bed and they land with a soft _oof_. 

“On the road,” Brady says, “we’re on the road…”

Shane kisses Brady’s neck and his fingers clench at his sides.

“On the road,” Brady whispers.

“Fine, tell me more about your mom, is she excited about the game tomorrow?” Shane asks and rolls off Brady. “Was she excited that we kicked Zach’s ass?” 

Bertie was in goal and he got his second consecutive shutout and the Sailors cried. Probably. Shane doesn’t know for sure. 

“She was excited that I got an assist,” Brady says. “And she said that Dani’s really excited that she gets to go to the game with her and Sarah tomorrow.”

“Does she have one of those really small jerseys?”

“She does. But… she has three of them. Because she loves all of her uncles equally, but the truth is that she doesn’t love us as much as Rasmus Filppula.”

Shane snorts. “You know what, I get it, Rasmus Filppula is a cool dude and since she lives here, she probably has to support the local shitshow.”

“Aw, come on, they’re way better now than they were last year.”

“True, they might miss the playoffs by two points instead of four this season,” Shane says.

Brady pokes him in the side. “Stop being an ass.”

“Oh my God, do you secretly root for Calgary?” Shane says.

“I grew up here, you probably secretly root for Minnesota, too.”

“Only when no one is looking. It’s wild that that you’re a hockey player and your brothers are hockey players and none of you have ever played here.”

“Yeah, guess they think we suck or something,” Brady says.

“Would you?”

“Huh?”

“Play here?” Shane asks. “Like, if they offered you a contract, would you go for it?”

“It depends…”

“If it was the best contract in the world?”

“I…” Brady shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. The thing is, though, they were never even interested, at least not in me, and… Jeff’s been with the Foxes ever since he got drafted and I don’t think he’d be going anywhere else and Zach… I’m sure he’d go for Calgary if he had the chance, but he’s pretty happy in Seattle.”

“Are you pretty happy in Denver?” Shane asks. Because… well, Brady’s contract isn’t up until the end of next season, and neither is Shane’s, and obviously he’d want for both of them to stay with the Hawks, but you never know. Maybe Brady hates Denver and can’t wait to get out of there. 

“Yeah,” Brady say and smirks at him, “pretty happy.”

“Cool,” Shane says.

Brady laughs. “You’re such a dork.”

Shane pulls a face.

“Aw,” Brady says, “I love that you’re a dork, though.”

Yeah, okay, Shane really doesn’t mind being a dork, then.


	33. Chapter 33

Shane groans as he throws himself on the couch. 

“He didn’t mean it,” Michael says and reaches over to give Shane’s head a pat. 

Shane grabs the stuffed dog that Brady sent him what seems like a lifetime ago and curls around it. “He did.”

They had practice earlier and Coach pulled Shane aside to tell him that he needs to get his ass in gear because he if doesn’t go back to scoring soon, he’ll get a free trip to the third line. No foreseeable return.

“He’s… as a coach…” Michael clears his throat. “He’s a little harsh sometimes.”

“He’s a dick. It’s just less noticeable when things are going well. He was a real ass when Waldo was still here, he made him feel like shit at least once a week and now it’s the same with Ronnie, he punishes him for every little mistake he makes.”

Michael sighs. “It’ll only get worse.”

“Too many injuries,” Shane says. Orlie’s out. So is Pad. That’s two thirds of their first line. Shane thought he might get bumped up, but he stayed right where he was and he obviously couldn’t ask why, so he just drew his own conclusions. 

He sucks.

Like, he’s been sucking ever since he came back from the All Star Game. He’s pretty sure that he’s cursed. He wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place and now he’s doomed and he’ll be fucking terrible for the rest of his career. This is it. When it’s time for his contract negotiations next season, they’ll offer him five bucks. And Shane will take the five bucks, because nobody else will want him.

“Sometimes they just don’t go in,” Michael says. 

“What if I don’t score for the rest of the season?”

“You’re still getting assists.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I know,” Michael says. “And I know there’s nothing I can say to actually make you feel better, but we both know that it won’t be forever. We just don’t know how long it’ll be until you score again and that sucks.”

“I’m cursed.”

“You’re going through a dry spell, it happens to all of us,” Michael says.

“Has it ever happened to you?” Shane asks. Michael is one of the most consistent players he’s ever had on his line.

“I’ve been terrible many times,” Michael says.

Shane sticks out his bottom lip. “You think I’m terrible?”

Michael takes a pillow and whacks Shane in the face with it. “Please get a grip.”

“I can’t. I’m moping and I need support.”

“Sorry, can’t support your moping,” Michael says. “I can make dinner, though. Or are you headed to Brady’s?”

“Nah,” Shane says.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, he’s going to the movies with Oreo and Robbie, they’re watching this weirdass horror movie, like, no thanks.”

Michael laughs. “Guess we’re watching a cooking show tonight.”

“Please,” Shane says. He gives Michael a poke. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Wow, so nice to have you around again,” Michael says. 

Shane ducks his head. He’s been a shitty friend, hasn’t he? He became _that_ person. The person who starts dating someone and forgets that they have friends and is never around because they spend all of their time with their partner. They’ve been hanging out on the road, but Shane is basically never home. It’s easier to be at Brady’s, because of the dogs, except the dogs would probably be fine on their own overnight. Brady’s gone for road games all the time, so they wouldn’t even notice that anything’s different. 

Shane glances at Michael.

Michael is looking back at him. “I don’t mind if he comes here.”

“What?”

“Brady. He knows that I don’t mind, right?”

“I… Yeah?”

“Did you tell him? Did you say, ‘It’s okay if we hang out at my place, my roommate Michael, who is also your teammate, promises that he won’t be weird about it, even though it’s probably a weird situation?’ Because if you didn’t, he probably thinks that I don’t want him here.”

“Oh,” Shane says. “No, I’ve definitely invited him over.”

“But he never did come over,” Michael says. “Because inviting him over and telling him that it’s okay to come over are not the same thing.”

“He knows.”

“Does he, though?”

Shane thought he did. Maybe he should check. “I’ll talk to him,” he mumbles. 

“Good,” Michael says. 

He makes them dinner and Shane offers to help, really, he does, he’s not being useless on purpose, but apparently Michael thinks he’ll fuck up his spaghetti somehow and shoos Shane away every time he gets too close to the stove. As he puts together the sauce, Michael sings a German song about… “A lawn mower.”

“The song’s about a lawn mower?” Shane asks. 

“Yes.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I am not,” Michael says and starts humming ABBA. At least with that one Michael can’t bullshit him about the lyrics. 

Shane puts an ungodly amount of parmesan cheese on his spaghetti and they eat in front of the TV, Gordon Ramsey losing his shit over some guy who burned his scallops. 

“Have you ever eaten a scallop?” Shane asks. “I don’t even know what a scallop is.”

“It’s… something fishy.”

Shane tilts his head. “It doesn’t look that great.” He’d rather eat spaghetti and meatballs; he wants nothing to do with haute cuisine. 

“Eh,” Michael says. “My mom’s Schnitzel is better.”

“Your mom’s Schnitzel is better than literally anything else,” Shane says. 

“I’ll tell her you said that. She’ll be happy.”

Shane strives to make Michael’s mom happy, because then she’ll hopefully make them a ton of Schnitzel when he goes to Germany in the summer. Which… he should talk to Brady about. They haven’t talked about the summer at all. Obviously. Because if they talk about the summer, they might jinx their postseason, so they’re not making plans until they’re actually free to make plans. Still, he could probably mention that he’s intending on going and that he wouldn’t mind if Brady came with him. 

He just sends him a text for now – _come over after the movie?_ – and decides to save all the other big conversations for when they’re in the same room and they can actually look at each other. Maybe Brady was hoping that they’d spend the whole summer together. Shane wouldn’t mind, in all honestly. Or maybe Brady wants the exact opposite.

Okay, yeah, they definitely need to talk about it. And they just won’t define what exact period of time they’re talking about when they say _summer_. It can start at any point. Hopefully not in April, though. 

Brady texts him back later, _I’ll come round in a bit, just gonna go home and take out the dogs first_.

When the doorbell rings, Shane and Michael have switched from MasterChef to Kitchen Nightmares. Shane gets up to answer the door and there’s Brady, smiling softly when Shane pulls him into the house.

“Hey,” Shane says and kisses him, “how was the movie?”

“You would have cried,” Brady says.

Shane pinches his side and Brady squirms, but, honestly, Shane doesn’t doubt that Brady’s right. “Well…” He gives Brady a few more kisses, just because he can. “Michael and I are watching Gordon Ramsey, you wanna stay for a bit?”

“I don’t know, I…” Brady shrugs. 

Shane wraps his arms around him.

Brady laughs and lets out a soft, “ _Aw_.”

“I like having you around, okay?” Shane says. “We have enough room on the couch.”

“I know, but…”

“What?”

“Michael’s here, right?” Brady says.

“Oh, no,” Shane says and pulls away. Michael was totally right. “I mean, yes, he’s here. But it’s fine. He doesn’t mind.”

Brady presses his lips together. “Really?”

“Really. He knows about us. He knows that we’re not gonna… sit five feet apart. You can stay the night if you want. It’s honestly not a big deal.”

“Okay,” Brady whispers and takes off his shoes. “Okay,” he says again as he takes off his jacket. 

Shane takes him by the hand and tugs him into the living room. “Hey, look who’s here.”

“Hey, Spicy,” Michael says. “Hope you’re ready to never eat at a restaurant again.”

“I’m not scared of food poisoning,” Brady says and flops down on the couch. 

Shane sits next to him and Brady puts his arm around him, glancing at Michael before he does it, but Michael’s on his phone, probably looking at his Twitter feed or something. Shane settles against Brady and closes his eyes and falls asleep within seconds.

When he wakes up, there’s not only the murmur of the TV, but also the murmur of a conversation.

“…didn’t even know what the fuck I was doing.”

Brady cackles.

“It’s very different here, I don’t know. You walk into a store and people ask you how you’re doing,” Michael says, “but they don’t actually want to know? So why do they ask? Why don’t they just say hello and leave it at that? People here… I don’t know, all that politeness is very performative.”

God, Michael always uses such big words.

“Yeah, at least until someone wants to speak to the manager,” Brady says. His hand is warm against Shane’s back, knuckles slowly running up and down Shane’s spine. 

Shane sits up with a sigh. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, you only slept for five episodes,” Michael says.

“What?”

“It’s been like twenty minutes,” Brady whispers.

Shane huffs. On TV, the episode they started before Brady got here is coming to an end.

“You wanna watch another one?” Michael asks. 

“I don’t know, I should probably head home.”

“Oh,” Shane says. He was hoping Brady might stay, but he won’t ask again, because he already came in and hung out with him and Michael, so if he wants to go home, Shane won’t bug him about it. 

“Hey, if you guys want the living room to yourselves, I can head on upstairs,” Michael says.

“Nah, don’t worry.”

“Seriously,” Michael says and puts the remote on the table, “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

He says goodnight and then it’s just Shane and Brady, the TV waiting for them to pick a new thing to watch, but Shane grabs the remote and turns it off. 

“I can walk you to the door,” Shane says.

“Maybe I’ll stay for a few more minutes,” Brady says.

“To make out with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice,” Shane says and climbs into Brady’s lap.

By the time either of them even thinks about checking the time, it’s past midnight. They should get some sleep, because it’s game day tomorrow and Shane needs to score, like, ten goals so he doesn’t get bumped down. Except Brady’s still on the third line and they’ve never actually played together. Might be fun. Ten goals would be better for his ego, though, as much as he’d love to be on a line with Brady. 

“Okay, now I should _really_ go home,” Brady says.

“Give Penny and Chewie a kiss from me,” Shane says as he clambers off of Brady. 

Brady laughs. He gets up and stretches. “Maybe…”

“Hm?”

“Is it really okay if I stay?”

“Yeah, totally fine,” Shane says. “I have… an extra toothbrush. Somewhere. I’m pretty sure.”

“Okay…” Brady pulls his sleeves over his hands. “The dogs won’t get a goodnight kiss, though.”

“But I will,” Shane says. 

“Yeah,” Brady says. “Maybe you’ll even get two.”

Shane’s never woken up next to Brady in his own bed and it’s… exactly like waking up next to Brady in any other bed. It’s just different in his head. When his alarm rings, he still grumbles, still hits snooze, still snuggles against Brady, who wraps his arms around him and lets him grumble a little more. 

In the hallway, Michael’s door clicks quietly, his footsteps on the stairs a little louder. 

Shane’s alarm rings again and he turns it off, knowing full well that they’ll be in a rush if they don’t get out of bed now. Instead of getting a move on, he kisses Brady. And Brady doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, so why should he stop, right?

When they shuffle into the kitchen half an hour later, both of them barely even dry from the five-minute shower they just took, Michael is busy making breakfast, humming a song that Shane doesn’t recognize. He’s making cheese omelettes. 

“Wow,” Brady says when he peers into the pan. “Can I move in?”

“Yes, but you have to bring the dogs,” Michael says.

“Oh, good, you’re obsessed with my dogs, too.”

“I wouldn’t say obsessed,” Michael says and grabs three plates. “I just like dogs.”

Brady’s phone dings and he looks around, letting out a soft breath as he checks the notification. 

“Something wrong?” Shane asks. 

Brady shrugs. “Nah, just…”

“Trade deadline’s in three days,” Michael says, and he and Brady share this look, this kind of _yeah, I’ve been there_ look.

Shane knew the deadline was coming up, but Michael and Brady aren’t in any danger of getting traded. Shane might be. Because he currently sucks. But Shane gets it, Michael and Brady have both been traded, Brady probably more than anyone else on the team, so they get antsy. Shane’s been antsy, too, although he’s been telling himself that they wouldn’t trade him if it’s not even a contract year for him. It’s a contract year for Michael, though. 

The Hawks might make more moves. They already traded picks for another D-man, but there’s still the issue with Orlie being out for another three or four weeks. If they want to keep their playoff spot, they’ll need to trade for a forward. But it wouldn’t make sense to trade forwards to get… a forward. Right?

“Wouldn’t they call, though?” Shane asks. “Like, wouldn’t someone…”

“Sometimes some insider posts the trade on Twitter before the team has a chance to call the player,” Michael says. “One of my teammates once found out that he got traded on Twitter.”

“Yikes,” Shane says.

Their conversation moves away from trades and to the game tonight, against the Lions.

“If Pierce Martin even just breathes in my direction, I will kill him,” Michael says. 

“Can’t wait for him to retire,” Brady mutters.

“He’s such a dick.”

“Literally, the worst person I’ve ever met in my life. When will he go away?”

Pierce Martin doesn’t play that night, because he’s day-to-day, but Brady still manages to get into a bit of a scrap with one of Martin’s line mates. After the game, he has a split lip and he groans softly when he gets into Shane’s car. “I need to put an ice pack on my entire face.”

Michael, on the backseat, hums in sympathy. 

They drop off Michael at home and Shane takes Brady to his place, sits him down, and gets him an ice pack.

“Thank you,” Brady mumbles. “Can you–”

“Take out the dogs and give them a bunch of treats?” Shane asks. “I’m on it.”

“One treat each.”

“Fine,” Shane says and shuffles away. 

When he returns, Penny and Chewie at his heels, Brady is right where Shane left him, scrolling through Twitter on his phone. 

Shane sits down next to him. “Trade news?”

“The Wolves got Emil Karlsson from the Comets.”

“Really?” Shane squints at Brady’s phone. “Oh, they pulled him off the ice during the game? Shit, that’s brutal.”

“Yeah,” Brady says.

Shane gives him a nudge. “Are you scared that you’ll get traded?”

“I mean, yes and no… I can’t spend my entire playing career being scared that I’ll get traded, it’s just something I expect at this point, but… I’d obviously prefer if I didn’t get traded again.”

“Me too,” Shane mumbles. 

The trade rumors pick up during the following days. Shane tries to stay away from it all, but they have the day off the day before the deadline, so Shane has way too much time on his hands, even though he spends most of the day naked in Brady’s bed. So when Brady’s taking a nap and Shane wakes up before him, he basically has to go on Twitter.

There’s a trade from this morning – _G Anders Jansen from the Comets to the Broncos for a 4th-round pick_. 

One tweet says that the Hawks are talking to the Comets, one says the Hawks are talking to the Cardinals. Shane, of course, makes the mistake of looking at the comments. He immediately finds three people who think the Hawks should trade him because he’s _useless_ and _not worth the money_. There’s people defending him, too, saying they can’t just drop every player who’s going through a slump, but it doesn’t do much to lighten his mood. 

He refreshes his feed. 

Another trade pops up. _F Oliver Houlton from the Seals to the Mariners in exchange for F Gabriel Sanchez and a 5th-round pick_. 

He should really put down his phone. None of these trades concern him personally, but they all know that there’s another one coming for the Hawks. They need another forward. A good one.

Shane switches over to Instagram, which doesn’t give him as much of an existential crisis, because it’s mostly cute animals and babies and food. He’s caught up with everything way too soon, though, and starts going through his photos to see if there’s anything he can post, but it’s mostly pictures of Chewie and Penny and he already posts way too many of those. There’s also a bunch of pictures of Brady, but… normal pictures. Pictures a teammate could have taken. 

Nothing he could put on Instagram, though. 

He goes back to Twitter. 

First tweet on his timeline – _Hawks are sending Lucas Ahlberg and Julian Stieglitz to Raleigh for Kevin Lawson_.

“Shit,” Shane says. 

He has seen a lot of teammates come and go over the years, but this one hurts. Luke has been here the entire time, just like Robbie, just like Oreo. It’s like they’re pulling a piece out of the puzzle and throwing it away and they have no way of ever fitting together the way do now. 

Brady snuffles in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake up.

Shane hates Kevin Lawson. He’s an arrogant douchebag who thinks he’s the greatest dude in the world when he’s really just… a second-liner on a good day. If he ends up on Shane’s line, he’ll cry.

The only good news is that the next day the deadline passes. And he’s still in Denver. And so is Brady.


	34. Chapter 34

The Hawks have played both their games against the Comets this season, so Luke is just… gone. They won’t see him until next season. They’ll probably still text, like they do during the summer, but when they hit the road for the first time after the trade deadline, it definitely feels like there’s something missing. 

One of their farm team goalies gets called up and suddenly Bertie is their starter. And Bertie definitely deserves to be their starter, but Shane still wants Luke back. He was always one of those guys who kept things balanced. 

Shane isn’t sure if it’s the absence of Luke that’s putting him in such a bad mood. He doesn’t usually mind road games, although he’s definitely looking forward to that two-week homestretch they have coming up.

Two weeks in the same place. That’s a rarity. 

During his rookie season, he loved to explore new places. Except for Edmonton in the middle of winter. He still likes a trip to New York. California roadies are usually fun, too. Now that he and Brady are together, though, road trips mean that they can’t spend as much time together, road trips mean that they try to keep their hands off each other for the most part. 

They slip up on occasion. 

It hasn’t happened so much since Oreo came knocking on Shane’s door when they were in Dallas and Shane had to hide his boner behind the door and Brady had to hide behind his bed. Not their finest moment. 

Shane has no idea how people deal with long-distance relationships. 

Like, living in different cities? Maybe even in different time zones. Not being able to touch? At all? Shane doesn’t know how he’d do it. When he was still dating Toby and he had to go on the road, even a few days seemed like a lifetime to him. 

When he’s on the road now, Brady’s there with him. At least he can steal a kiss here and there. 

A two-week homestretch, though? Shane can’t think of anything better.

They come back from a short roadie, fly home right after a game in Chicago and Brady takes Shane home with him, a full day off on the horizon. 

They go straight to bed once they get to Brady’s. After Shane has given Penny and Chewie the pets they deserve. They leave their bags by the door, get out of their clothes and fall into bed, trading a few lazy kisses before they both fall asleep. 

Shane wakes up sometime during the night because Brady kicks him in the shin. He does that sometimes, but Shane won’t hold it against him, because Brady doesn’t complain about Shane’s snoring either. He squints at the alarm clock, sees that it’s four in the morning and goes right back to sleep. Brady gets up to feed the dogs in the morning, but crawls back into bed with Shane, who’s barely awake until Brady’s ice-cold hand pulls him closer.

“Fuck, dude,” Shane grumbles and curls against Brady.

Brady laughs. “Sorry.”

“You say that every time and I know that you’re not.” Brady kisses Shane’s forehead, so he’s inclined to forgive him, except Brady also put on a shirt, which Shane tugs at with displeasure. “You put on a shirt?”

“Yeah, jacket but no shirt underneath isn’t really my style.”

Shane huffs at him and sticks his hand under his shirt, fingers splayed against Brady’s back. He yawns and wiggles a little to get comfortable. 

“Are you going back to sleep?” Brady asks.

“Hm.”

“Because I was gonna say… I could take off my shirt again if it’s so important to you.”

Yeah, okay, Shane is so not going back to sleep. He props himself up on his elbow. “I always want you to take off your shirt.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yeah. I don’t get to see you shirtless often enough.”

“I’m shirtless all the time.”

“In the locker room,” Shane complains. “That’s not the same. You know that’s not the same. I can’t ogle you in the locker room.”

Brady grins lazily and starts wiggling out of his shirt, clearly not in the mood to sit back up again. Shane helps him out because he’s nice like that. 

He gives the waistband of Brady’s boxers a tug. “I don’t think you need those either.”

They land on the floor a moment later, Shane’s following suit. Brady’s still wearing socks and Shane tugs them off one by one before he bends down to kiss Brady, Brady’s hands coming up to steady him, pull him closer. 

He’s getting two weeks of this. Two weeks of sleeping in the same bed, two weeks of waking up next to one another, two weeks of touching whenever they want. Except for when they’re at the rink. Still. They have another day off next week between games and Shane intends to spend the entire day just like this one. Completely naked. In bed. With Brady.

Brady puts his arm around Shane’s waist and flips him over, lips soft against his collarbones, working his way down slowly, a hint of teeth making Shane gasp every so often, shivering when Brady kisses the inside of his thigh. 

He has no idea how he’s supposed to make it through the summer if he’s in Winnipeg and Brady’s in Calgary. 

“I was thinking about this summer,” Shane says. Actually, he’s spent way too much time thinking about this summer, but didn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to jinx the summer, but… he’s had so many thoughts and they had nowhere to go. It was just a matter of time until one of them jumped out. 

Brady looks up, blinking at him. “Oh… That’s what you think about when my mouth is like an inch away from your dick?” 

“Sorry, I… I was…” Shane sighs. “Keep going.”

“No, what were you thinking about?”

“Just… Nothing. Can you go back to what you were doing?”

Brady shakes his head, tugs at the sheets and flops down next to Shane. 

Great. Shane ruined the fabulous morning sex they were about to have. “We can seriously talk about this later,” he says. 

“Forgive me for not finding joy in blowing you when your thoughts are clearly somewhere else,” Brady says. He takes Shane’s hand and brings it up to his lips, kisses the palm of his hand first and then his knuckles, one after the other. “So?”

“We’re gonna be in different places,” Shane says.

“We can visit each other.”

“Yeah, I know, but I was thinking… maybe we could… be in the same place? I mean, I don’t know what’s gonna happen and how long this summer is even gonna be, but I keep thinking about it and I don’t wanna spend months only seeing you on weekends or whatever. We both have to train, so we can’t… What if we spent the summer in the same place?”

“We… could.”

“But you don’t want to,” Shane says, because it’s pretty obvious that Brady isn’t into the idea. Which is fine. Totally fine. Shane can deal. Somehow. They’ll visit each other.

“I do, but…” Brady kisses the top of Shane’s shoulder. “How would be pick where we’re gonna spend the summer? Do you wanna flip a coin?”

“Oh, I just thought I’d come to Calgary.”

Brady frowns. “Seriously?”

“It was nice last summer. But if you don’t want me there–”

“What? Come on, of course I want you there. I just thought you might wanna spend the summer in Winnipeg like you always do.”

“I can still visit my uncle, but… You’re kinda more important.”

Brady’s smile is the softest thing Shane has ever seen. “Okay, well, if you’re sure…”

“I mean, your family is there, right? And Monty. We’ll just have to come up with some kinda excuse to explain why I’m in Calgary all summer, but…”

“Don’t you wanna hang out with your family?” 

“Uh… I… No. Nope, I’m good. I’ll just swing by for a couple of days like every year and that’s probably good enough. Anyway, my mom’s… I don’t know if anyone’s even gonna want to see me.”

“Well, I definitely want to see you.” Brady grins. “And Monty will be so excited to see you again.”

“Heh, yeah…”

“I’ll tell him not to eat you,” Brady says.

“I wasn’t scared that he’d eat me.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Horses are just really big, okay?” Shane says. “And they look like they constantly think about murder.”

“Monty does not think about murder.”

“But how do you know?” Shane whispers. 

“Well, for one, he’s never tried to murder me,” Brady says, “and we’ve known each other for a while.”

Shane kinda loves that Brady talks about his horse like he’s a person. Doesn’t make him less scared of horses, but it’s still cute. “So maybe Monty’s not a criminal, but what about all the other horses?”

Brady laughs. “I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Shane says and kisses him.

“Okay,” Brady echoes and pulls him right back in for another kiss. 

Maybe they can go back to where they left off now. Because Shane is definitely still interested in morning sex. 

He reaches for Brady, who doesn’t need much convincing to move and it only takes about a minute for Brady to get right back to where he was before, kissing the inside of Shane’s thigh. Shane gives Brady’s hair a gentle tug to get him to move up just a little bit, but Brady isn’t in a rush.

He’s moved upwards by about half an inch when Shane’s phone starts to ring. 

“No, come on, who’s calling me this early in the morning?” What is it, ten? Everyone he knows should still be asleep or too lazy for a phone call. Except… Could be his mom. “Ignore it,” he says. 

“You can answer it,” Brady says. 

“I don’t wanna,” Shane mutters but sits up to check who it is.

_Hannah_. 

He should answer that one. Even though she’s probably butt-dialling him. “Okay, I think I need to get that.”

“Okay,” Brady says and pulls up the sheets again.

There goes his last chance of having morning sex. They’ll probably just have breakfast after Shane’s hung up the phone. He’s starting to get hungry. 

“Hey,” Shane says when he picks up the phone.

“Shane, hey,” Hannah says. She sounds… off. Choked-up. Like she’s been crying. He doesn’t even remember the last time he’s seen Hannah cry.

“What’s wrong?” Shane asks.

He must sound worried because Brady sits up and reaches out, fingers curling around Shane’s hand. His eyebrows are raised in question.

Shane only shrugs because he has no idea what’s going on. 

Hannah hasn’t said anything yet.

“Hannah?” Shane says. “What happened?”

“I…” She sniffles and someone mumbles something in the background. At least she’s not alone. “This is kinda…”

“Just tell me. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, funny, that’s what I thought when I talked to Mom and then it really wasn’t fine.”

“Okay, but I’m not Mom and I promise I won’t, like, judge you or whatever. Just tell me what you need and I’ll help you out,” Shane says. He has no idea what’s going on, there’s so much shit that can go wrong when you’re in college. All sorts of fun stuff, like a trip to the emergency room because you have alcohol poisoning or, like, catching an STD. He knows for a fact that a guy on the football team had chlamydia when he was in college. 

Their mom would totally lose her shit about that kinda thing. 

“Well,” Hannah says, “Mom called me this morning.”

Why their mother would call Hannah on a Tuesday morning is completely beyond him, but whatever. Hannah probably doesn’t have morning classes and their Mom has her schedule memorized. 

“And we were talking, mostly about spring break and who’ll pick me up at the airport and…” Hannah trails off again. Sniffles. “She was asking about my classes and my friends, so I told her some stuff and there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell her for a while and I didn’t know how, but I figured I’d just go for it, so I told her that I have a girlfriend and–”

“You have a girlfriend?” Shane asks.

Brady rolls his eyes at him.

“I mean, that’s great. I’m not… I’m happy for you?”

On the other end of the line, Hannah hiccoughs. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Shane says but then remembers why Hannah called in the first place. “Was Mom… Did she…?”

“She said… I don’t know, that I need to get over whatever phase I’m going through right now, because it’s not right and…” Hannah starts crying again.

Can Shane hop in a plane and fly over there real quick? Probably not. He said he was going to help her, but he has no idea how to fix this. He can’t change their mother or her beliefs or her world view. 

“I know that she hasn’t been, like… openly supportive of gay people, but I thought… I’m her daughter and she loves me, right? So she should be fine with it? It’s not like she was openly homophobic either?”

“I’m sorry, Hannah.”

“I just wanted her to know, because I, like, wanted her to meet Gabbie at some point, you know?”

“Yeah,” Shane says. He looks at Brady, totally helpless, but Brady can’t do shit either. “I mean, I… I’d love to meet Gabbie.”

“She’s really great,” Hannah says.

In the background, a soft voice says, “Thanks, babe.”

“Is she there with you?” Shane asks.

“Yeah,” Hannah whispers.

“Good. That’s good.” Shane clears his throat. “Do you want me to talk to Mom?”

“I… I don’t know. No, don’t. I just… I was supposed to go home for spring break on Friday.” Hannah takes a deep breath. “I can’t…”

“You don’t have to go home.”

“Where am I gonna go, then?”

“Why don’t you just come here? We’ll hang out and you can come to games and one of my teammates has really awesome dogs that he doesn’t mind sharing. You know, Brady? Rosenberg. He has… the best dogs.”

Hannah laughs softy. “I don’t know, I mean, I’d have to see if I can change the flight.”

“I can book you on a flight to Denver if you can’t change it, no worries,” Shane says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Mom there’s been a change of plans. I’ll just text her or something.”

“Let me know if you need money or anything and I’ll…” Shane drags his fingers through his hair. “Let me know when your flight gets in and I’ll pick you up. We don’t have a game on Friday night.”

“Thank you,” Hannah says. 

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“It’s okay. It’s really not a problem. I promise.”

“I’ll see you on Friday,” Hannah says. 

“Yeah, see you on Friday.” Shane hangs up the phone and turns to Brady. “My sister’s coming by for a week.”

“What did your mom say to her?”

“Something she shouldn’t have said,” Shane mutters. “Hannah told me not to call her, but I might do it anyway. What the fuck, honestly?”

Brady squeezes his hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because she’s also your mom and you… have a boyfriend.”

Shane takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Right. This is exactly why I never told them, because they were just so borderline weird about gay people that I was never sure and… yeah. Here we are. Fuck, I feel so bad for her.”

Brady leans over to kiss Shane’s temple. “I’m sorry.”

Shane chews on his bottom lip. Yeah, he might have to call his mom to give her a piece of his mind after all.


	35. Chapter 35

Kevin Lawson is a douchebag. 

But not in the regular way. He’s not like Gunner who’s just a dick and that’s it. Kevin Lawson is full of himself. Thinks he’s the greatest and Coach is so far up his ass that he probably can’t see the light of day anymore. 

He’s getting the shiny new toy treatment and everyone’s got major heart-eyes for him. 

As soon as Lawson got here, Coach put him on the first line. 

Which is… Well, if that’s what Coach wants, Shane can’t really question it, because Coach is the one who calls the shots and the rest of them just have to do what they’re told. 

Except… “I’ve been working my ass off to get on the first line,” Shane says.

Brady nods. “I know.”

“I… I thought I could make it, you know? Because, sure, I’ve been shit, we both know I’ve been shit, like, absolute shit, and I know that Coach is punishing me, but I’ve recovered from the shit streak. I’ve scored goals. Five goals in three games. That’s a lot of goals. Nine points. That’s… a lot.”

“It is a lot,” Brady agrees.

“So…” Shane says. “I should at least… He could have at least tried me on the first line? Instead of just putting the new guy on the first line like he’s our hockey savior when there’s other people who’ve been on this team for years and…” He trails off. “I’m being a whiny baby, aren’t I?”

“You’re upset and I can’t help you, I can just sit here and listen. Because I know what it’s like when you feel like you’re doing your best but it’ll never be good enough and it sucks.”

“Wow, if you put it like that, it sounds really depressing,” Shane says and reaches out to take Brady’s hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m… actually doing way better than I’ve done ever before.”

“Okay, but now I still feel bad for complaining when I’m in a great second-line spot and I’m scoring a bunch of goals and I have no reason to feel inadequate, except I still… feel… inadequate.”

He learned that word from Michael. Whose native language is German. He’ll never not be impressed by how many wild-as-shit words Michael knows. 

“You’re right, though. You got out of that slump,” Brady says. “And you had a couple of really great games while we were on the road.”

“Yeah. I know. That’s what I’m saying… I know, but I feel like shit anyway.” Shane sighs. “Whatever. We need to get out of this car.”

Brady nods. 

They’ve been in the grocery store parking lot for fifteen minutes and Brady just let Shane keep complaining, because he was so into it that he completely forgot why they were here. All because of Kevin Lawson. 

“I’m sorry, I’m…” Shane shakes his head. “Everything’s fucking weird.” This week was a mess. On top of the family drama that Brady has been putting up with like a champ, the Ravens were in town, so they met Elliot for dinner, which was actually a nice change from all the drama, but Shane just needs everything to stop now. 

Brady gives Shane’s hand one more squeeze. Shane one hundred percent does not deserve him.

Hannah’s coming tonight, which is why they’re at the grocery store. He needs to buy some stuff that Hannah’s actually going to want to eat. Michael took the unexpected visit in stride and looked like he was about to throw hands with Shane’s entire family when Shane told him the whole story. 

Shane’s gotten his room ready for Hannah and he’s pulled out the couch in the living room. He’ll be sleeping down there for a week. It’s fine, he can deal. What’s gonna be a little harder to deal with is not seeing Brady. Well. He’ll see him. They’ll talk to each other, but it’ll basically be like being on the road. 

They talked this through for several hours the other day. Shane doesn’t want to tell Hannah about Brady right now, it feels like the completely wrong time, even though Brady was saying that Hannah might need someone who’s in the same boat, but even just the thought of adding his own mess to hers was too much. He went back and forth between telling her and not telling her for so long that he was sure Brady would kick his ass out the door if he even tried to talk about it for another minute, but he just listened while Shane laid out every single worry side by side, and Shane has no idea what he’d do without him. 

He eventually decided on, no, he’s not saying anything yet. He might tell her that he’s gay, should the occasion arise, but he has no idea how Hannah’s going to be feeling when she gets here, so he needs to dip a toe in first. He can’t dump any of his issues on her right now.

The next day he called Waldo, talked to him for nearly two hours and even though he couldn’t fix anything for him, it was still nice to hear him say that he was sure that Shane would figure out the right thing to do.

Their mother called him in a rage, probably shortly after Hannah told her that she’d be going to Denver for spring break, and Shane let it go to voicemail. He didn’t even listen to the entire message, he just didn’t have it in him. 

“Thanks for coming,” Shane says when they grab a shopping cart. He constantly finds himself drifting, drowning in an ocean full of indiscernible thoughts and Brady keeps reeling him back in.

“Yeah, no worries,” Brady says. 

He’s in charge, he’s pushing the cart. All Shane has to do is throw stuff in there, ticking off a list of things Hannah likes as they make their way through the aisles – strawberries, pop tarts, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, frozen dumplings, pizza rolls, which Shane is gonna eat too while no one is looking, and he also grabs more ice cream than strictly necessary. He buys soda and takes off to find some brownie mix while Brady grabs some Swiss chocolate. 

By the time it’s all in Brady’s trunk, Shane’s exhausted and wants a nap. 

Brady drives him home, helps him put away the groceries and then they have an early dinner with Michael before Shane has to head to the airport to pick up Hannah. Her flight’s getting in just after eight.

“Call if you need anything,” Brady says before he heads home. 

“Thank you.”

Brady gently pulls him into a hug. “Call even if you don’t need anything,” he mumbles against Shane’s temple.

“Okay,” Shane says and holds him tightly for about five minutes. Then his alarm starts going off, reminding him to head to the airport. 

He gets there only about five minutes later than he thought he would, parks the car and goes in. He didn’t want Hannah to get lost or to have to stand in the pick-up lane for ages. It’s March, but it’s still cold. It snowed a few days ago. 

It takes about fifteen minutes for Hannah to show up, running straight into his arms when she sees him.

“Hey,” Shane says and ruffles her hair. “Was the flight okay?”

“Yeah, no worries,” Hannah says, a little breathless.

“You hungry?” Shane asks and grabs Hannah’s suitcase. “I can stop somewhere on the way or we can get you something right now.”

“I’m okay.”

“Really? I also have food at home if you change your mind. I bought you pizza rolls. Michael hates them and I had to promise that they were for you, but I wouldn’t be mad if you shared them with me.”

Hannah laughs. “Thank you. I’m really sorry that I just showed up here and, like, Michael is–”

“It’s honestly not a problem,” Shane says. “It’s been ages since you last came by to visit me.”

“Yeah,” Hannah says. 

“And Michael’s mom has been here, too, so visitors are definitely allowed.”

“Okay.”

Shane nudges her into an elevator. She’s quieter than usual, that’s for sure, but Shane wasn’t expecting her to show up here and share every single feeling she’s ever had in her life. 

He puts her suitcase in the trunk and they get on the road, the traffic thankfully light. 

“So,” Hannah says after a while, “Michael…”

“Yeah?”

“You told him what happened?”

“Yeah,” Shane says. “I kinda had to explain why you were coming on such short notice.”

“And, he…” Hannah clears her throat. “He wasn’t judgy about it?”

“No, he wasn’t. At all.”

Hannah nods. 

“Nobody else knows why you’re here, though. Like, my sister is visiting me because she’s on spring break. That’s all I’ve told people. And I didn’t make a formal announcement or anything, so a bunch of them probably don’t even know that you’re here. I just asked some of the guys if their wives or girlfriends could give you a ride to the games.”

“Oh,” Hannah says. “To every game?”

“I mean, you don’t have to go to every game, but it’s an option if you want to. I just figured it’s easier if one of them gives you a ride, because I have to be there really early.”

“No, I think I’m okay with going to every game,” Hannah says. 

Shane figured as much, but it’s not like he wouldn’t be okay with her just staying at his place and watching Netflix and eating a ton of popcorn and ice cream. 

She doesn’t say much while they drive back to Shane’s place and Shane isn’t sure if he should ask, because Hannah’s always been naturally talkative. He never had to ask her anything, because she always told him more than he wanted to know anyway. 

He’s dying to ask her about her girlfriend, but he probably shouldn’t push it.

He takes her home, they say hello to Michael, and then Shane takes her upstairs to his room, gives her a few minutes to get settled and throws a bunch of pizza rolls into the microwave in the meantime.

“You’re not going to eat those, are you?” Michael asks, watching the microwave with disgusted fascination. 

“I might eat one. You can have one, too.”

“No,” Michael says. 

“Your loss,” Shane says, takes them out of the microwave and instantly burns his tongue when he bites into one of them. He drops it on the counter and Michael sighs at him. “I’ll cl–” 

Shane’s phone starts ringing. Licking tomato sauce off one hand and fishing his phone out of his pocket with the other, he doesn’t check who’s calling him. He’s expecting it to be Brady, but it’s... “Jen?” he says when he picks up. He turns on the speaker because the tomato sauce is everywhere and he doesn’t want it all over his phone. How is there that much tomato sauce in one little pizza roll?

“Shane,” Jen says. “Hello.”

Michael, who can clearly smell the family drama, retreats quickly. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Shane asks, because he’s not completely given up on having a normal conversation with her. 

“So, I hear Hannah’s there this week,” Jen says. She sounds good-natured enough.

Shane has no idea if their Mom told Jen the full story, so he only says, “Yeah, she’s here for spring break. I just picked her up at the airport.”

“Right,” Jen says. “Well, how did that happen? Because I thought Hannah was supposed to come home.”

“Yeah, I guess there was a change of plans.”

“Oh, come on, quit bullshitting me, you know exactly what happened,” Jen snaps.

“Okay?” Shane says. “Yeah, I know what happened. So?”

“So Hannah has an argument with Mom and instead of telling her to go home and fix it, you tell her she can hide at your place?”

Shane still has tomato sauce on his pinky finger. He wipes it off. “She’s not _hiding_ here. She told Mom where she’s going.”

“You know what I mean. You’re just making this worse by–”

“Jen, do you even know what they argued about?” Shane asks. The rest of this conversation probably hinges on that. 

“Mom said that Hannah was apparently… experimenting at college.”

“Experimenting,” Shane echoes.

“She is seeing some girl,” Jen goes on, “which…” She sighs. “I get it, college is when you try new things, but did she have to tell Mom about it? If she has to be… inappropriate, she needs to do it in private. I don’t tell our mother about my sex life and neither should she.”

“Oh my God, Jen,” Shane says, “she has a girlfriend. This is like you telling Mom about a boyfriend.”

“It isn’t and you know that.”

“Sorry, but I really don’t see how there’s any difference between those two things.”

“What so you’re okay with her dating this girl? Or eventually getting married to a woman?”

“Yeah, I’m okay with that.”

“Are you serious right now?” Jen asks.

“Are _you_ fucking serious right now?”

“There’s no need to swear at me, Shane.”

“I think there is,” Shane says. “What exactly were you trying to accomplish here? Did you, like, wanna try to pull me on your side and convince me to send Hannah home just so you and Mom can be fucking horrible to her?”

“Shane, you’ve got to be reasonable about this. It isn’t _right_. She needs, I don’t know, therapy or–”

“No, she doesn’t. Do you even hear yourself right now? Is that what Mom said?”

“Mom is livid, Shane. You need to make things right with her.”

“You know what you can tell Mom? That I’ll make things right with her when she apologizes to Hannah.”

“That’s not going to happen and we both know that. You need to be the bigger person here.”

“Hell no,” Shane says. He’s about two seconds away from hurling his phone against the wall. “You know what else you can tell Mom? If Hannah wants to marry her girlfriend and have the biggest lesbian wedding of the century, I’ll fucking pay for it and Mom can stay home and think about what a shitty person she is. And for all I care you can do the same. Don’t call me anymore. Either of you.”

And he hangs up. 

He’s done here.

He takes a deep breath, studies his hands, finds some more tomato sauce and wipes it off. He might have just completely destroyed his relationships with Jen and his Mom, because Jen is probably calling her right now, telling her in exact detail what Shane just said to her. 

“So you’d really pay for my lesbian wedding of the century?”

Shane looks up. Hannah’s leaning in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” Shane says. “Did you hear all of it?”

Hannah shrugs. “Most of it.”

Shane takes a deep breath.

“They’re gonna cut me off,” Hannah says. “Mom called me again when I told her I was gonna come here and she said that I’d better come home, otherwise they’d have to think long and hard about whether or not they can still support me.”

“Hey,” Shane says, “I’m still here.”

“I can’t ask you for money.”

Shane shrugs. “You can pay me back one day if it’s really that important to you, but… I don’t want you to worry about any of that right now.”

Hannah scoots onto one of the chairs at the kitchen island and takes a pizza roll. “This is fucked up, I thought she might be a little weird about it and that she’d come around eventually, but this is… How did I get this so wrong?” 

“She might still come around,” Shane says. He highly doubts it, because their mom gets stubborn when she thinks she’s right, but this is about two of her kids, so she might change her mind eventually. And there’s also their dad to consider. Shane still isn’t in the mood to talk to him for longer than strictly necessary, but his opinion could change things, at least for Hannah. 

Shane takes another pizza roll, too, and thankfully doesn’t get the tomato sauce everywhere this time. “I bought you a bunch of food. Just take whatever you want. You got everything you need upstairs?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Okay. Just so you know, I’m gonna have to get in there before I head to the rink tomorrow morning.”

“I can sleep on the couch, you know?” Hannah says. “I mean, I showed up here without even–”

Shane tugs at the tip of her ponytail. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You want anything to drink? I bought your nasty soda.”

“You got me Dr Pepper?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not nasty,” Hannah says, tears in her eyes now.

“It totally is, so you have to drink it all while you’re here, otherwise I don’t know what to do with it. Michael sure as fuck isn’t gonna drink it.”

Hannah laughs, but it doesn’t keep a tear from running down her cheek.

“Thanks for…” Hannah sniffles. “You know.”

“Well, we’re kinda in the same boat… so…”

Hannah puts down the pizza roll she was about to eat. “We… are?”

“I mean, I’m not having the gay wedding of the century any time soon, but… yeah.”

“Oh,” Hannah says.

“Yeah,” Shane says. That was easier than he thought. 

“I, uh… I’m bi. Just… for the record.”

Shane nods. “Okay.”

Hannah nods back at him. “Okay.”


	36. Chapter 36

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Shane says and throws his spoon over his shoulder. It lands on the counter and slides into the sink with an offensively loud noise.

Michael narrows his eyes at him and Hannah, who’s continuing to eat brownies straight out of the pan with a spoon. “You want some?” she asks.

“I’m going to make some real breakfast,” Michael mutters and sticks his head into the fridge.

Hannah got up at six in the morning and made brownies and Shane, out of politeness, got up to keep her company. He sent Brady silly texts while Hannah threw a few more ingredients into the brownie mix, not even checking the instructions on the box. Brady, when he got up, only replied, _why are you awake_.

Shane gave him a few minutes to read through all the texts he’d sent beforehand and got another text shorty after. 

_my condolences but at least you have brownies._

Shane hopes that this won’t be a daily occurrence, because he enjoys sleeping for as long as he possibly can. He would have had to get up for morning skate anyway, but every minute counts. Especially because he stayed up late texting Brady last night. 

He’s unreasonably excited for his pregame nap today.

“Hannah, do you still wanna come to the game tonight?” Shane asks. 

“For sure.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Oreo and his girlfriend will give you a ride. What about morning skate?”

“Am I allowed to come to morning skate?”

“Sure,” Michael says. “People come all the time.”

“Have you never come to practice when you were here with Mom?” Shane asks. 

Hannah pulls a face at the mention of their mother.

Shame pulls a face back at her.

“I wanted to go the last time we were here, but Mom said it wouldn’t be fun, so she took me to the mall.”

“The mall,” Michael says with distaste. 

They take her to practice and some of the guys recognize her, waving to her in passing. Robbie tosses her a puck, Oreo blows her a kiss and she smiles at both of them, waving as they skate off.

Oreo comes to a halt next to Shane, bumping his hip against Shane’s. “Hey, so Kaitlyn can pick your sister up for the game later if she still wants to go. Where’s she sitting?”

“Uhh, I haven’t asked her yet. I will. She might think it’s awkward to sit with the wives. I can get a her a seat somewhere.”

Oreo pulls out the tragic face. “But then she’ll have to sit alone.”

“She’s not the kind of person who cares about that, but I’ll talk to her.” 

“Okay. If Kaitlyn gives her a ride, we’ll have to get her a new jersey,” Oreo says. “I’m gonna convince her to become my fan.”

“She’d never wear your jersey.”

“We’ll see. My jersey looks great.”

“Your jersey looks like everyone else’s jersey,” Shane says, rolling his eyes. 

Robbie skates up to them, his grin wide, “Hey, Wilder, I think Greenie has a thing for your sister.”

Greenie is one of their farm team kids who got called up when the Hawks got hit with the Injury Plague. He’s, like, twelve years old and drinks way too much soda. Hannah also drinks way too much soda. Match made in heaven.

“Oh my _God_.”

Except Hannah is currently in a relationship, so Shane doesn’t have to go over there and murder Greenie.

“Ladies,” Lawson says as he skates by, “what’s the hot gossip?”

“Word on the street is that Kevin Lawson can’t drive,” Robbie says.

Lawson rolls his eyes. “It was an accident,” he says and skates off. 

“Uh, what?” Shane says.

“Apparently he nearly ran over one of his coaches back in Raleigh after practice a few months ago.”

“Seriously?”

“You heard the man, it was _an accident_.”

Shane huffs.

“If you ask me,” Robbie says, voice low, “his coaches in Raleigh hated him, so they put him on the third line, he threw a tantrum, the coaches hated him even more and that’s why they got rid of him. Nobody liked him.”

Shane gives him a look. He wasn’t sure what Robbie thought about Lawson, because he always dragged him along when he first joined the team, but maybe he was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What?” Robbie says. “Do _you_ like him?”

“No,” Shane says. 

“That’s what I thought.”

The whistle goes and they skate over to the bench to listen to whatever bullshit Coach is spewing right now. Someone’s scared that he’ll lose his job. This team won the Cup not too long ago and now they’re barely holding on to a playoff spot. If this season ends badly for them – and in this case even a first round exit would be a bad ending – the Hawks might find themselves someone new to coach the team next season. 

Shane sure as fuck wouldn’t mind. 

It seems that Coach has moved on to making his life hell, though. Now it’s Ronnie’s turn. He looks fucking miserable whenever Coach even so much as looks in his direction.

Shane’s ready for a nap when he gets off the ice but for some godforsaken reason he gets tapped for media today. He lets Hannah through the gate first, so she doesn’t have to sit on the bleachers all by herself. 

Greenie is watching from afar, face red. 

Shane would glare in his direction, but there’s people around. Now that he’s walked over to where the fans are, he has to make excuses why he can’t sign and tells them he’ll be outside later if they want to stick around, hoping that a bunch of them won’t. 

“I can give you my credit card and you can go wild in the team store if you want,” Shane tells Hannah. Because otherwise she’ll just be sitting around until he’s done. He doesn’t want her to be bored out of her mind on her first day here. 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, but you have to promise that you won’t buy Oreo’s jersey.”

“No, I’ll buy Michael’s.”

“I guess I can live with that.”

“Or…” Hanna grabs him by the arm. “Ew, you’re all gross and sweaty.”

“I just had morning skate, what did you expect?” Shane grumbles. 

Hannah huffs at him. “Whatever. I should get Brady Rosenberg’s jersey. I love him so much, he’s the sweetest.”

Shane looks over his shoulder. “He might hear you.”

“He’s still on the ice.” Hannah clutches her chest. “He works so hard. I’m so happy he’s on the third line, because that’s where he belongs. He’s amazing and I still can’t believe I got to meet him, oh my God, Shane, can I meet him again?”

“I don’t know, he might be busy.”

“Can you ask him? But don’t tell him I asked.”

“No,” Shane says, slowing down when they make it to the locker room. “Wait here, I’ll get you my wallet.”

Hannah’s eyes go wide. “You were serious about that?”

“Yeah. But, like, don’t spend a thousand bucks, okay? One jersey. And maybe a shirt. Or a hoodie. Something like that.”

“I’d hug you if you weren’t disgusting right now.”

Shane waves her off and shuffles away.

When they’re ready to head home and Shane goes to find Hannah, she’s sipping a cup of coffee, waiting outside the rink with the rest of the fans. The bag she’s holding is astoundingly small.

Shane signs a few jerseys but hands Hannah the car keys, so she doesn’t have to watch and freeze her ass off in the process. 

“No jersey?” he asks when he gets into the car. 

“They didn’t have it. I asked about getting one made, but it would take weeks and I’m not here for that long. I’ll check at the arena tonight.”

Michael frowns at Shane.“I thought they always had your jersey at the team store?”

“Oh, she didn’t want mine.”

Michael laughs and turns to Hannah. “Did you want Greenie’s?”

“Fuck’s sake,” Shane says. “You noticed, too?”

Hannah cackles.

“I can’t believe he was flirting with you. You’re my sister. He can’t flirt with my sister.”

“Hey, Shane,” Hannah says, “no offense, but, like, if we forget for a second that I have a girlfriend, even if I wanted to bang that guy to Jupiter and back, you’d just have to deal with it, it’s none of your business.”

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Shane says. 

“Maybe I should drive,” Michael mutters.

“No,” Shane says and pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Don’t be a baby,” Hannah says.

Shane doesn’t reply. He’s too busy being a baby.

“So, whose jersey did you want to get?” Michael asks. “Because I’m sure we could pull some strings and speed things up. Maybe not for tonight, but for the game the day after tomorrow?”

Hannah doesn’t reply immediately.

“She wanted Brady’s jersey because she has a crush on him,” Shane says.

“I do not have a crush on him.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says, “a lot of people have a crush on Brady.”

“A lot of people?” Shane says.

“You know… the fans.”

“The fans,” Shane echoes. The fans have a crush on Brady? He knew that, but he doesn’t usually spend a lot of time thinking about it. There’s people out there who would totally sleep with his boyfriend if they had the chance. His boyfriend is hot. Of course everyone wants to sleep with him. 

That’s fine. He’s the one who actually gets to sleep with him. No big deal. 

Back home, Hannah makes herself mac and cheese, which she refuses to share with Shane, but she sits down next to him at the kitchen island, so he can watch her eat it. He’s been texting Carl, making sure that Hannah will have a good seat tonight. 

“They’re gonna hold your ticket at the arena, so go to the box office, tell them your name and–”

“I know how it works, don’t worry,” Hannah says. “Thank you for the ticket.”

“Sure.” Shane glares at the mac and cheese, because it looks so disgusting and so good. He shouldn’t have any of it anyway. 

“So, Brady Rosenberg isn’t your type, huh?” Hannah says.

“Uh…”

“Just because you seemed so surprised that so many people were into him.”

“I wasn’t surprised.”

“I get it,” Hannah says. “He’s your teammate so it would be totally weird and inappropriate if you said he was hot. So I’m gonna leave it alone, I swear. Are you guys allowed to sleep with teammates?”

“There’s no rule that says we can’t as far as I know, but–”

“Yeah, but you’re not gonna do it because it’s weird and inappropriate.”

Now is definitely not the time for Shane to tell her about Brady. So he makes a noncommittal sound and leaves it at that.

“So, who’s your type?” Hannah asks. “If you leave hockey players out of it… like, there must some actor or whatever that you think is hot. I’m trying to remember what kinda posters you had in your room, but it was all hockey shit. Oh my God, were you into Minnesota Bears legend Jonathan Wulff?”

“Can we talk about something else?” Shane grumbles. He sort of was into Jonathan Wulff, but no one can ever know about that. Wulff is actually still playing. In Europe, but he’s still playing. 

“You’re no fun.”

“I–” His phone starts ringing. It’s their mom. She called him earlier too and left a voicemail but he hasn’t had time to listen to it yet. “You want me to answer that?”

“I don’t know. She’s been calling all morning and I didn’t answer and then she started texting me. She started off with how much she would have loved to have me home and then told me how ungrateful I am twenty minutes later, so…”

They both stare at Shane’s phone.

“Fuck, whatever,” Shane says and picks up. “Hey, Mom.”

“Shane,” their mom says. She sounds like she’s out of breath. “So you do answer your phone.”

“I had morning skate, Mom. It’s game day, so I don’t have a ton of time.”

“I talked to your sister.”

The sister in question is probably Jen. “Okay?”

“She said you–”

“Mom, I’m gonna have to cut this short,” Shane says. “Are you calling because you want to apologize to Hannah?”

“Apologize to Hannah? If anyone deserves an apology here it’s me. And Jen. You need to call her and tell her you’re sorry.”

“Mom, listen, when you’re ready to apologize, let me know. But until then, don’t expect me to answer the phone. Bye.”

He hangs up and puts down the phone. 

“Wow,” Hannah says. There’s tears in her eyes. 

Shane grabs his phone again. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling Dad,” Shane says. And calls their dad. 

He picks up immediately. “Shane?” He sounds surprised and Shane can’t blame him because he hasn’t actually called him in several months. 

“Hi,” Shane says. “I was wondering, have you talked to Mom recently?”

“I… have.”

“So she told you?”

“About Hannah?”

“Yes, about Hannah,” Shane says. “Any thoughts you’d like to share?”

“I was…” His dad sighs. Shane can practically see him taking of his glasses and rubbing his forehead. “I was trying to make up my mind.”

“Make up your mind,” Shane repeats.

Hannah frowns at him. Points at his phone. She’s probably trying to get him to turn on the speaker, but Shane doesn’t want her to hear what their dad is saying if what he’s saying is the same bullshit that the rest of their family has been spouting. 

“It’s a difficult situation,” his dad says. “I was going to reach out soon, but… How is Hannah feeling?”

“Would you like to talk to her?”

“She’s there?”

“Right next to me.”

“Yes, let me talk to her.”

Shane reluctantly hands over the phone and Hannah takes it without hesitation and now Shane’s the one who only gets to hear half of the conversation, but it seems like it’s going a hundred times better than every conversation he’s ever had with their mother. Hannah waves him off whenever he gives her a look. Doesn’t help that their dad seems to be doing most of the talking. 

When Hannah hangs up the phone, she lets out a deep breath. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay?”

“He, well…” Hannah shakes her head. “He thinks Mom will come around, which I’m not so sure about, but he said he’d talk to her and not to worry about college or anything, he’ll still pay for stuff.”

“That’s it? He didn’t say that it’s… fine?”

“He said next time I want to come home I can stay at his apartment,” Hannah says. “Which is the same thing, I guess?”

“Huh,” Shane says. 

“You know that Dad is terrible at expressing his emotions.” Hannah gives him a nudge. “Go lie down for your nap, you’re gonna mess up your whole routine.”

“You’ll be fine for a bit?”

“Sure, I’ll call Gabbie.”

Shane nods and makes himself comfortable on the couch, but it takes him way too long to fall asleep, too many thoughts in his head fighting for his attention. He nods off eventually, but when his alarm rings, he feels like absolute shit. 

Brady seems to notice as soon as he walks into the locker room and sidles up to Shane. “You okay?” 

Shane only says, “I’ll call you later,” because he’s very much not okay, but now’s not a good time to talk about it. Puck drop is in about two hours and they need to get ready for the game. 

“Okay,” Brady says and gives him a companionable pat on the back, which is better than nothing. 

He sees Brady throwing Hannah a puck during warmups. He’ll have to remember to say thank you for that later. 

They drop the game and Coach spends both intermissions yelling at them.

Shane does not have to talk to the media tonight, because he did nothing of significance, which, in this case, is actually a good thing. Brady scored their lone goal and Shane can tell that he’s trying really hard not to look too happy because everyone around him is sitting in a deep, dark pit of despair.

Once Hannah’s in bed, and Michael’s in his room, Shane gets comfortable on the couch and calls Brady. 

The screen is dark for a second and Brady’s voice says, “You’re too close.” The camera shakes and then there’s Penny’s nose, sniffing at the camera, the picture going dark again. “She doesn’t understand how video calls work.”

“That’s okay, I appreciate that she tried,” Shane says. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Brady says and then his face appears. “How’s everything going?”

“My family is a big mess and somehow my dad has turned out to be a somewhat decent person. My dad. My conservative-as-shit dad. And now I don’t even know how I feel about anything anymore, because he still cheated on my mom, right? But now he’s also the only other person in my family who has Hannah’s back. Like I said, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I have no idea how to figure this out.” Shane sighs and pulls at his blanket. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else, because I won’t figure this out tonight and good things are happening in your life. Let’s talk about you instead.”

Brady laughs. 

“I’m serious,” Shane says. “You scored a goal. You’ve passed your career high in goals _and_ assists. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s, uh… pretty nice.”

“I’m happy for you.”

Brady smirks. “You know, tomorrow after practice, Z is interviewing me.”

“No way,” Shane says. “He’s gonna write an article about how great you are, I can’t wait to read that.”

“Okay, we need to stop talking about me now,” Brady says.

“Oh no, are you embarrassed? Because you’re wonderful and everyone loves you?”

The camera shakes and is now pointed at Penny again. “Penny, tell him to stop,” Brady says. 

Penny doesn’t even blink, she’s fast asleep.

“Fine, we can talk about something else,” Shane says. “Have you ever thought about how many people want to sleep with you?”

Brady flips the camera again. “What?”

“I mean, I know you’re attractive, but there’s so many other people that want to get in your pants. So many.”

“I don’t think it’s that many people.”

“According to trustworthy sources, it’s a lot of people,” Shane says. 

Brady bites down a smile. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Why would I be jealous? You’re my boyfriend.”

“Exactly,” Brady says. 

“I’m not bothered by the fact that you could sleep with a ton of people if you wanted to.”

“You could, too.”

“I think there’s more people who want to sleep with you,” Shane says. “But, as I said, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Clearly.” Brady sits up. “Shane… I’m not gonna go and sleep with a random person.”

“I know that.”

“Okay.”

Shane sticks out his bottom lip. “I miss you. I know I saw you a few hours ago, but… I really miss you.”

“You should come over.”

“Right now?”

“I meant, like, when we have the afternoon off or something.”

“Oh. Sure. Yeah.”

Brady smiles. “You would have gotten in your car and come over right now, huh?”

“No,” Shane says. He rolls his eyes, mostly at himself. “Yes. Okay, now show me Penny again, I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

Brady switches cameras and there’s Penny, still fast asleep. 

Shane sighs. “God, I wish that were me.”


	37. Chapter 37

“So,” Shane says as he grabs the largest mug he owns. 

They had an 8pm puck drop yesterday, which isn’t as inconvenient as an afternoon start, but it still throws him off. He got home an hour later than he usually would, then he talked to Brady on the phone until he nearly fell asleep. 

At least they have the day off. 

Hannah looks up from her phone. “So?”

Shane grabs the coffee pot. “Brady invited us over.”

“Oh,” Hannah says. 

“Wanna go?”

Shane is going to cry if Hannah says no. He was going to spend all day with Brady and although he probably won’t even be able to touch Brady if he’s at his place with Hannah, he still wouldn’t mind being in the same room with him for several hours. And, who knows, they might be able sneak away for a few minutes. 

“Isn’t it weird if we… I don’t know. Are you sure he invited _us_ and not just you?”

“Yeah. Michael’s invited, too.”

“I am?” Michael asks. 

“Yeah.”

“We should go,” Michael says. “Brady has dogs.” He hands Hannah a plate with eggs and bacon on it. “Have you met the dogs?”

“I haven’t.”

“Well, you’re Brady’s biggest fan, so you gotta meet his dogs,” Shane says. Hannah came to the game yesterday, wearing her brand new Rosenberg jersey. Brady gave her another puck. Shane really needs to tell his teammates to stop giving his sister pucks, otherwise they’ll end up paying for an overweight bag when she goes back to Boston. 

Hannah shrugs, her cheeks flaming red. “If it’s really okay…”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay,” Shane says.

He clearly showed a tad too much enthusiasm there, because Michael gives him this look. It says, _You just want to go to Brady’s because you’re hoping that you’ll be able to sneak away with him and make out with him, you utter fool, it’s not going to happen, because your sister is too observant and when you come home tonight, you’ll be even more sexually frustrated than before_. 

Okay, Shane made up that last part, but it’s the truth that he has to live with. If he has to be at Brady’s all day and talk to Brady and pretend that they’re just friends, his head is going to explode. He needs to find a way to make out with him for at least five minutes. That’s the barest of minimums. 

He could just tell Hannah about Brady, but he’s a chicken.

That’s all there is to it.

Because the words _weird_ and _inappropriate_ have been uttered and there’s no going back from that. Hannah thinks that it would be weird and inappropriate for him to date a teammate, so he can’t tell her that he’s dating a teammate. He can’t take another argument right now. 

“I’ll make…” Hannah looks around the kitchen. “I’ll bake muffins. Cupcakes.”

“You don’t have to bring anything,” Shane says. 

“No, but… he invited us, so we should.”

“I have a recipe for a chocolate cake that my Mama always makes when I come home in the summer,” Michael says. “I think we have everything we need. Are we going over there in the afternoon?”

Shane shrugs. “I guess?”

“Find out?” Hannah says. “Is that how you guys usually operate? You just show up at some point?”

“Yeah?”

Shane is Brady’s boyfriend. He’s allowed to just show up. 

But Hannah doesn’t know that.

He grabs his phone and shuffles away, because he’s not going to stick around for the baking adventures and he might as well take this as an excuse to give Brady a call. They talk for a few minutes, Shane hiding in his bathroom upstairs, and Brady tells him what he has planned for dinner, asking him about the things Hannah likes. Shane doesn’t have any good answers, because as far as he knows Hannah mostly likes things that are ninety percent sugar. 

“Is she a vegetarian?” Brady asks after the third _I’m not sure_.

“No, we went to a steakhouse with her, remember?”

“So she does like steak?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“You just said you weren’t sure.”

Shane groans and sits down on the toilet. It’s closed. He’s pulled this move before when it wasn’t closed and he nearly dropped his phone in the toilet as a result. “I’m sorry, my brain is mush and I can’t focus on anything and there’s like… a hundred billion thoughts in my head.”

“I’ll make steak and chicken,” Brady says. “If she doesn’t like it, we’ll order her a pizza. No big deal.”

“I’m not sure if she likes pizza,” Shane says.

Brady laughs. At least Shane can still make him laugh, it’s actually really helping with his emotional state, although he’s not entirely sure what is emotional state even is. 

“No, but…” Shane goes on. “Thank you. For inviting us over and for making food and… all that.”

“That’s okay. I mean, I’m doing this for myself. Because I want to see you.”

Shane smiles at the toilet paper. “That was very cute.”

Brady huffs out the smallest of laughs. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Shane says, “and just so you know, I have an extremely evil plan to catch you alone and do unspeakable things to you.”

“Can’t wait,” Brady says.

“All right, I’m gonna go make sure that Michael and Hannah aren’t destroying the kitchen, I’ll–”

“Hey, wait one second,” Brady says. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s kinda time-sensitive.” Brady clears his throat. “So… I found this house. Actually, my mom found it. Whatever, there’s this house.”

“What house?”

“In Calgary. Okay, not _in_ Calgary, but… it’s about fifteen minutes away from the ranch.”

“Oh.”

“For this summer. If you still want to come to Calgary. We can obviously stay with my parents, or we can stay in the guest house that you were staying in last summer. But… So, this guy my mom knows owns a bunch of guest houses in the area and there’s this place, it’s an old farmhouse, and he’s selling it, because he was going to fix it up but it turned out that it would be more trouble than it’s worth, but my mom thought it would be good… for us…”

“Wow, okay. Did you… Have you seen it?”

“I’ve seen pictures. It’s old, but… the plumbing works. They actually redid the bathrooms just a few years ago. Maybe we could buy some paint, fix some things.”

“I mean–”

“Shane,” Brady says, “I don’t need an answer right now and if you want to stay somewhere else, we can totally arrange that. I just thought it might be nice because there’s no, like… immediate neighbors.”

“No, it sounds great, but I don’t know how to fix _anything_. When I see a toolbox, I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know which screwdriver is which and I don’t know how to use those weird plank thingies with the little bubble in them.”

“I can fix things. You can watch. How about that?”

“Even better,” Shane says. 

“I’ll send you pictures of the house, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And you can just let me know whenever. But soon. Not today. But–”

“Soon,” Shane says. “Got it.”

Shane’s already back in the kitchen, Michael giving Hannah instructions as she throws ingredients into a bowl, when Brady sends him pictures of the house he was talking about. It’s small and overgrown, most of the rooms empty, the walls weirdly grey, but there’s a fireplace and the kitchen probably just needs a new coat of paint and there’s flowers growing all around the house.

“What are you smiling about?” Michael asks.

Hannah turns around. “Did someone send you nudes?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I was just throwing out a wild guess,” Hannah says.

“Just keep baking, it’s nothing exciting.”

“Okay, but, honestly,” Hannah says, because apparently the baking doesn’t keep her from talking. “Don’t people send you guys nudes all the fucking time?”

“No,” Shane says.

Michael shrugs. “I’ve received many strange messages from people I’ve never met and some of them might have been… of that nature.”

“So I guess Michael’s more popular than you, Shane.”

“No,” Michael says, “Shane was just lying.”

Shane flips him off and turns his attention back to his phone. He swipes away the pictures and replies to Brady – _love it_.

They head over to Brady’s in the afternoon, Hannah with a chocolate cake in her lap, and Brady’s already waiting in the front door when Michael parks the car in his driveway. 

“Hey, you guys,” Brady says, smiling when Hannah hands over the cake. “Thank you. You didn’t need to bring anything.”

“It’s really good cake,” Michael says. 

“Did _you_ make the cake, Foxie?”

“Hey,” Shane says as he wanders into the house, “where’s the dogs?”

“They’re in their room, I just didn’t want to let them loose when Hannah hadn’t met them before,” Brady says. “I can go get them.”

“Yes, please,” Hannah says. 

Brady looks from her to Shane. “Clearly related.”

Shane nudges Hannah into the living room and the dogs are upon them a moment later, going straight for the most excited person in the room, which is definitely Hannah. Brady was right, they’re extremely related. 

“I love them so much,” Hannah says. “How do I pet them at the same time?”

“Just focus on one and then move on to the other one,” Shane says.

Michael nods. “Trust him, he knows what he’s talking about.”

“You guys want anything to drink? Hannah, Shane said you liked Dr Pepper, so I got you some.”

Hannah’s face has gone bright red again. “Oh my gosh, thank you. That’s so nice of you.”

“No worries,” Brady says.

“I’m good,” Michael says and sinks into an armchair. 

Shane sits down next to Hannah and lures Chewie away. “Yeah, me too,” he says, belatedly realizing that he could have offered to help Brady in the kitchen if he’d asked for a drink, but Brady has already shuffled away. 

“Awww,” Hannah says when Penny puts her paw on her knee. “I’ve seen you on Instagram, you know? But you’re way cuter in real life. So much cuter. And so soft.”

“Touch her ears,” Shane whispers.

“Noooo, they’re too soft,” Hannah says and slides down onto the floor. 

Michael is smirking at them from his armchair. 

“So,” Brady says and hands Hannah her disgusting soda, “I’ve bought steak and chicken to throw on the grill later and some veggies and stuff. Oh, and I got those small burger buns, so we can make burgers, too.”

“I love tiny burgers,” Shane says.

Brady winks at him. “I know.”

Shane blows him a kiss, because Hannah is too distracted by Penny to notice. Brady ducks his head, bites down a smile, and sits down at the other end of the couch. Michael coughs. Pointedly. 

“Movie?” Brady asks. 

There’s some mumbling in agreement and Brady hands the remote to Hannah, who has absolutely no problem with turning on Brady’s huge TV and finding them a movie where many, many people get murdered in increasingly creative ways. 

“Ugh,” Shane says.

“Aw, Shane, I forgot, you’re scared of… everything except Barbie movies.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“We can watch a Barbie movie,” Brady says. “I always watch Barbie movies with my niece in the summer.”

Shane gives Hannah’s head a tap. “All of this is classified info, you can’t tweet about this.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Hannah says. “But can I send pictures of the dogs to everyone I know?”

“Sure.”

Hannah ends up putting on Goon, which Shane can totally live with and half an hour into the movie, Brady gets up to make popcorn. Shane watches him go. Glances at Michael, who’s on his phone, and at Hannah, who still hasn’t given up on petting both dogs at the same time. 

“I’m gonna get some water,” Shane mumbles and follows Brady into the kitchen. 

Brady’s digging through his pantry, on the hunt for popcorn, and jumps when Shane says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Brady whispers, laughing softly when Shane pushes him into the pantry. There really isn’t a lot of space in here and Shane can barely get the door closed, but he’s also hoping that Michael knows exactly why Shane left and won’t let Hannah wander into the kitchen right now.

“I missed you,” Shane says and wraps his arms around Brady. It’s ridiculous, because he’s seen him every day ever since Hannah got here and they’ve been talking on the phone, but this… 

Brady’s hand is on the small of his back, the other one in his hair, and Brady’s lips brush against his forehead when he says, “You okay?”

“Yes. But now I’m… a little more okay than I was this morning.”

Brady hums and pulls him closer. “How about now?”

“Even better.” Shane closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment and listens to Brady’s heartbeat. He needs to get out of this pantry in approximately three seconds, as much as he wants to stay in here forever. “Can we stay in here?”

“I don’t know,” Brady whispers. “Is your sister an observant person or is she like you?”

“I– Wha– I am totally–”

Brady laughs and kisses him, just once, giving Shane a squeeze before he looks up and says, “Ah, there’s the popcorn,” and grabs it from right above Shane’s head. 

“On our next day off,” Shane says, “I’m going to kiss you all day.”

“All day?”

“All fucking day,” Shane says, nodding as he steps back out of the pantry.

He gets himself a glass of water and goes back to the living room. Hannah doesn’t even acknowledge his return, but Michael does, giving him the most knowing of looks. 

He gives him the same look again later when they’re about to leave, already in the car, and Shane runs back into the house because he forgot his phone. On purpose. In the kitchen. 

He kisses Brady for three minutes, which is an appropriate amount of time to be looking for a phone when there’s only so many places he could have left it, makes sure to put both his hands on Brady’s ass, and then turns to leave.

“Hey,” Brady says.

“Yeah?”

Brady holds up Shane’s phone. “It might get a little too suspicious if you forget it _again_.”

Shane sighs, takes his phone, gives him another kiss, and heads back to the car.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated.


End file.
